Oh the smile that that sentence fragment gives me.
I love the way the drivers side door can only be locked and unlocked from the outside, how, in the past, the passenger side door could never be opened from the outside, how the trunk doesn't open without difficulty and how it doesn't close without even more difficulty. I love the way the old seat covers, a beautiful beach scene, turned ugly purple with and and how the stuffing of those seat covers exploded into a million pieces that squeezed their way into every nook and cranny of the seats. I love the days when the lock on the driver's side door is frozen shut and I have to climb in and out of it through the passenger's side door, over the emergency break and the gear shift, and into the seat. I love that my car is to me as a toy car is to a giraffe versus how Haley is to her Trooper and how Bree used to be to her Land Rover--a mouse in a stretch Hummer.
I just LOVE its personality! Really, I do.
But I was inclined to steal some of that personality before the semester started. I took the seat covers off...and found a little present that I like to call nastiness.
Here's the before and after.
Later in the semester, I was reminded why I hate Utah drivers--especially the stupid college-aged Utah drivers. There are boundaries, people! But they don't know, and its evident on a daily basis. This day was a particularly memorable one.
But don't you fret, my friends--I got the license plate number. Pretty sure this WON'T happen again.
And that is flashback number three.
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