QweenB: Driving in my car...

This is my lovely PudgeMobile. (I bought this car a year ago, off the lot with 7 miles on the odometer after my Honda crapped out on me going 70mph on I-70 in rush hour traffic, in the left lane, in 90 degree July heat. Oh, I was also in my business suit rushing to an early evening hockey game.) He is so named (if you know me, you know my auto always has a name...makes it more personable, I find, when you're trying to coax them out of a snow drift, up a big hill, or to keep running on a tank that clearly has been on E for awhile.) because of the last three letters on his plates: PUJ. Gawd bless the DMV.

Here's that story, sorry if you've already heard it ("Skip to the end.":

In September last year (Crap! That means my registration is due again...ARGH!), the DAY my temp tag expired (thanks to an ass at the dealership sitting on my paperwork) I made it to the DMV at 4:55, five minutes before they locked the doors. Funny, if you show up with five minutes to spare, you don't have to wait in a long line, at least on that given day. The first issue was when she told me it would be $575. Um, huh? It's not a fancy-schmancy race car or luxury SUV. It's a freakin' Subaru Forester. Then, the clerk hands me my plates. I look to see xxx-PUJ. Here's the last of our conversation, after I picked my jaw off the floor post check-writing:

Me: "Um, P-U-J? Really? I have to have 'pudge' on my plates for the life of this car?"
Clerk: "What? Oh. Yeah, well, at least it doesn't say F-A-T."
Me: "Good point. Hadn't thought of that..." How do you argue with that logic???

Not only is the Pudgemobile a rock magnet, it also came equipped with an invisibility cloak. I shit you not. About a month after buying him, a big truck kicked up a rock and dented the hood on the passenger side. About six months after that, a Jetta kicked up BOULDER and put a HUGE dent smack dab in the middle of my hood. That rock was so big I thought it was going to shatter the windshield. And, about a month ago, a Ford pickup kicked up a rock and cracked my windshield. As for being invisible...it has to be the only reason I am constantly being cut off, cut in front of, and generally ignored on every street in Denver, interstates included. Today I was driving on I-25 then I-70 to skate and I was cut in front of no less than six times, and TWICE people randomly just took over my spot on the highway as if I didn't even exist. Good thing I have cat-like, lightning-fast reflexes, and the Pudgster maneuvers so well or we would have been squished Subie and that would make me sad.

And this past Sunday ushered in the end of an era: my sweet, sweet Toby was sold to a high school student, who just so happens to be H's niece. Toby was my very first brand-spankin new car. I bought him at Bitterroot Motors in Missoula, MT, in October 1996 shortly after a psycho bitch driver totalled my Subaru Outback.

Toby is a forest green Corolla and possibly the most dependable and reliable car in the world. Why, why, why would I sell him???? I don't know. I sold out for an AWD and my first love has always been a Subie. I bucked it at first but then....the Tax Man cometh: cue ominous music and nasty letter from the IRS demanding $13,400. (Cue crying and sadness.) That's no typo folks. And certainly deserves it's own post at another time...