nibot | adventures in food and car acquisition

Yesterday I was wandering down the street in search of place to eat, as I was starving. I was on an expedition to explore the neighborhood, hopeful of finding nearby fooderies.

Walking down the street, I wondered, "hmm, Maybe I'll find a car for sale!" I happen to be, at least theoretically, in the market for an automobile.

Not twenty seconds later, I came across a car for sale.

While stooped down, reading an inventory of this particular car's numerous purported virtues, a woman comes up and asked, "Want to test drive?"

"Why not?" I answer. And so I climbed into the driver's seat of this rather ratty-looking Toyota something-or-other.

As the lady is explaining the care and feeding that went into keep this car so well maintained, I am thinking, "I would hate to see a poorly maintained car!"

We start driving down the street. I'm thrilled at this clever ruse by which I've attained the use of a vehicle for this food-scouting expedition.

"What year is this car?" I ask, ever mindful to keep up the charade that I am actually still interested in buying it. "Ninety-one," the woman says, the "CHECK ENGINE" light popping on as she answers. I'm wondering how someone could possibly trash a car like this in that amount of time.

"It was an Enterprise rent-a-car," the woman explains, without prompting.

We get onto a gently winding country boulevard. I'm turning to make it around one of these gentle bends, only the CAR DOESN'T TURN. Oncoming traffic! Belatedly the car responds. I suppress my panick. There's a huge amount of slack in the steering and I'm moderately terrorized.

"I think it might need an alignment," the woman explains.

I almost master the horrifying (lack of) steering.

"You're a good driver," compliments the woman.

She directs me back to our starting point.

"I'll think about it," I explain as I gleefully extricate myself from the fearful machine.