I have something to bitch about.
They sold our car.
I know. Poor little Spielerfrau. Such a tough life.
But here's the thing. It wasn't just any car. It was an automatic.
We now have a standard.
I don't know how to drive a standard. I have never needed to drive a standard. And to be perfectly honest, I don't know why they even exist. Who wants a third pedal to worry about? Two is plenty, thanks. And fuck off awkward shifter thing that refuses to go smoothly from second to third and instead forces me to go from second to first, have a small panic attack, go back to second and piss everyone behind me off. Fuck. Right. Off.
I have enough to think about while driving over here. The 9,837,273 different signs are enough to drive anyone mental (I won't lie, I just learned what the yellow diamond means two months ago). So really, I think it's in everyone's best interest that I drive an automatic.
I love walking and believe it or not, I am thankful to be in a city so small that almost everything we need is within walking distance. But that car gave me freedom. The freedom to visit Kim and the kiddos. The freedom to get my Starbucks fix. The freedom to skip the mile-long walk to kindergarten on rainy days. Hell, the freedom to do whatever, whenever.
It isn't the American in me, I swear. I know standards are, well, standard over here. And I'm more than willing to adapt. But sometimes adapting is easier said than done. Sometimes I've had it up to here with adapting.
During our brief stint in Germany last season, I tried to learn how to drive standard. In the short time that I spent behind the wheel of that stupid Roomster, I stalled more times than I could count, I managed to nearly kill us once, and I burned the clutch ... twice. It was no bueno.
The dealership wasn't impressed either.
Two of the other wives got in minor fender benders the same week, making my little dent look like nothin'. But even so, I highly doubt they'll be bending over backward to ensure that the keys to the next available automatic land in my hands.
I know how it sounds, but honestly, I just don't feel like adapting this time.
So this should be good.
I wonder if I can talk the hubby into a new pair of running shoes ... ?