My Very Own Death Trap. Perfect.

I bought my first “new” car a few years ago and I’m pretty much obsessed with it.  My sister openly makes fun of it and says it’s ugly and looks like a spaceship, but I don’t really care because this spaceship gets the job done.  I bought a Honda Fit, and it’s amazing. I can fold the seats down and toss my dogs in there without getting fur on the seats, I can fold the seats up and 4-5 Rubbermaid bins in the back seat, I can put my bike in the back without having to remove the front wheel, and best of all I get about 40 miles to the gallon.  For me, it’s great.  Then a few a weeks ago, all my walls came crashing down around me.  I was going about my business, I was doing fine (Jewel reference J), and a coworkers informs me that I’m driving what was rated the most unsafe car of the year.  Great.  Thanks for ruining my day, pal.

 

So I do what any girl would do in this situation – I called my dad.  I guess I thought maybe he would sympathize with his eldest child and, you know, want me to be safe and not die.  I thought he’d, I don’t know, give me his car or buy me a big (safe) Hummer or something.  I thought wrong.  “Are you seriously concerned with this?” he asks me…uh yea I’m concerned, a person with my luck (and by luck, I mean driving record) should not be driving around in a death box.  “What, are you thinking about buying a new car or something?” he follows up with.  Well, the thought crossed my mind!! “Just don’t get into an accident”.  Great.  Thanks for the advice pops.  Before you said that getting into an accident was on the to-do list, but I’ll cross it off now.  I proceed to tell him why my car was so unsafe and how if get into an accident apparently the steering panel is going to come into my car and smash my legs into a million little pieces.  “I’m a runner dad, I can’t live my life from a wheelchair.  I’ll DIE!”.  It was at that point that he responded “Erin, you are ridiculous”. And hung up on me.

 

Nice to know I have a strong support system.