Lord have mercy. I have to sell my car.
I want to stay at Shimer College next semester, and we don’t have enough money for tuition for the next couple of months. So, my darling Reatta has to go.
It’s a black ‘89 Buick Reatta with grey leather interior and only 144,000 miles–those things can go forever, and it rides like a dream. There’s some cosmetic issues, like the scratch from a lousy tow job, but everything functions.
This car is a dream. It makes my boyfriend’s dad’s Mitsubishi Spyder seem lazy. The leather seats are so comfortable I’d rather sit in them than a La-Z-Boy recliner! It has an LCD touch screen that controls everything, and it even diagnoses itself if there’s ever a problem! The gas mileage’s pretty decent, averaging 24 mpg. And the acceleration…I’m going to miss this car, let’s just put it that way. It’s the smoothest ride ever.
And it kills me to say “it” all the time. I never do. I say “he,” because he’s my first car, my baby, and his name is Frank. My beloved Reatta’s name is Frank, and I absolutely love him, and I don’t know how I’m going to be okay with this but I just have to be.
Shimer is home. Shimer is home. Please, Lord, let me stay. As much as it kills, let Frank sell. Shimer is home.
