Today I went researching new cars with my dad. The Acura Integra was much more striking in person than I had imagined. The finish of the interior was top notch. The knobs felt like expensive metals, the screen was vivid, the seat was snug in a sporty way, it just felt special to be in.
The Challenger felt crude in comparison. The interior has a dark, cool club-like atmosphere. When the salesman brought me the key, I knew to turn it on merely to hear the V8. Foot down on the brake, index finger on the ignition button. The rumble of the giant juvenile engine was felt in the chassis. Dad and I laughed.
The BMW place certainly has an “attitude,” the same one my grandma reports experiencing there in the late 90s. The salesman had strong “Marin Joe’s waiter” type vibe.
“My son just accepted a high paying job offer.”
When I told him my price range, dad says his face lit up.
When he followed the east coast douche into the used lot, I told my dad:
“The silver lining is that I can actually afford all these cars. It’s my choice what I want to drive.”
Receiving and accepting such a large job offer makes me feel so mature, empowered, respected, an important. I feel “executive,” whatever I may mean by that.
