I finally have justified the purchase of a second pair of cowboy boots. I bought a truck.
I got hammered on the deal, all while being told I was getting a great deal, which is probably true (I'm just cheap and don't like paying) because my car really looked bad the day I took it over there.
That morning, I got an oil change for the car, which was stupid since I got NO credit for bringing in a car full of clean oil. Same thing for filling the gas tank.
During the queasy time of "getting my information" and while I was resisting the urge to run away, I was asked to go get the registration and insurance information out of my car.
When I got out to my car, I thought I had a problem...well two problems...I had neither registration nor insurance info. I couldn't prove I even owned the car.
But I was wrong. They didn't care. And (along with an agreement to pay for the car until Grace and John are close to driving) that's how I got a truck.
