The Story Behind My Car

I got a call on Monday (not on my cell phone, mind you, that saga continues…) from my dad. He’s been assisting me with buying a car, a process that I’m not particularly fond of, but that he’s really good at. (This man can get a discount on his senior citizens discount, if you know what I mean.) In the past 6 years, I’ve managed to shell out a whole bunch of money on two Audi leases, and while I’m a little sad to see my luxury car go, the responsible 30-year-old side of me gave it a big kick on the bumper and said, “Good riddance!”

It was 4:45pm, and he told me to meet him at the dealership promptly after work. I did as I was told, and about an hour later, it was time to pay for the car. Much to my surprise, they didn’t reach for the financing paperwork. Instead, they asked us what form of payment we were planning to use. I’m certain that my face contorted to a ridiculously ugly expression of “huh?” when my dad pulled out his debit card.

My dad gave me an interest free loan. Sweet Jesus. I feel like I won the lottery.

The best part of the story (well for you – I got a car!), however, is when they asked my dad for his pin number – and he stated that the bank didn’t give him one. I explained to him that he would have chosen his pin number, and he shook his head no. (He then asked me how many numbers your pin contains.) While dialing the bank to try and sort this whole pin confusion out, the finance lady at the dealership asked my dad if he had a checkbook with him. “Well, I usually only carry around one check at a time, and I think I used it today.”

Who is he? Barney Fife? (In case your stepdad doesn’t repeatedly watch The Andy Griffith Show, Barney only carried one bullet for his gun.)

I am the proud owner of a new car with an awesome warranty…and one hell of a story behind it. I’m extremely grateful for both.