Well we are now in the market for a new car .. new to us .. not new new (if you knew me, you knew when I said new I didn't really mean new).
I can't justify the cost of repairing Cheryl's 1995 Taurus (and she did look fine in it), so we are now looking for something that meets or exceeds what she already had (I might bump her up to a '96 or '97 .. Cheryl is one lucky woman).
In the Hamilton family, we buy cars and drive them until they have been 1) wrecked (at least three have met their demise in this fashion) or 2) worn out beyond repair (the rest 'bit the big one' this way).
There is no, "I think I want to trade cars." That's not how it works around here.
When you get a vehicle at my house, you better like it .. or learn to like it, because you are going to be living with it for a while.
Cheryl never really liked the Taurus. She drove it, but there was never any joy while doing so. This is starting to make me just a little suspicious.
I am going to review some security tapes and see if there was a short, "unidentified" woman in the vicinity of the Ford on the night in question.
That would explain the photos of a lime green VW Beetle that I found under Cheryl's pillow.
Oh, she's good.
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