According to the collision center, my car is done. Of course they told me this same thing last week, but that changed to "we didn't get the alignment done, but we'll pay for you to do it." So at my earliest convenience, I took the car to have the alignment fixed only to find that the collision center was not done. They did a beautiful job with the body work, but they didn't look far enough. We needed some more work done, work that was the responsibility of the collision center.
So we rented another car for the couple of days that it took to get our car fixed. It was nice driving the rental to Alabama, not putting the miles on our own car, and I've almost fallen in love with the rental.
I wanted a decent car with space and a cd player. We got a Mazda 6, shiny black and quicker than a swipe from a cat's paw. The trunk, considering the size of the car, is huge. Momma's derby bag fit, the bag that holds two pairs of skates, helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, wrist/hand guards, all with room to spare. It also held the two suitcases for our clothes, a small cooler, four large beach towels, two blankets, the pillows from the sofa, and all that still only took up about two thirds of the available trunk space. As pretty as a shiny black car can be, I would personally not pay good money to own the fingerprint magnet.
We are hopefully done with other people's cars. I want my Honda back, and I want it to be completely fixed this time. I hate driving to the west side of our town, even if it's only halfway west. Once I get past Bearden, the darkness starts to take over, and I hate the west side of our town. The collision center is only a couple of miles past Bearden, but it's far enough that I'll be so happy to be done with this car crap.
So, one poopy butt to wipe as soon as The Boy finishes filling the diaper, and we get to get our car.