Dance with me

Dance is one of the oldest forms of human expression. I was raised by a Fundamentalist Baptist mother who felt dance was a sin.

I sinned - I cannot stand still when I hear music. I begged for ballet lessons, tap lessons, jazz classes. I was eventually allowed to take some classes as long as I did not make a public spectacle of myself and participate in recitals. I agreed to the terms. I went back to ballet when I was in my late 20s. I stuck with it until I was too pregnant with the child to continue. Afterwards, I went again to jazz classes.

There are many forms of dance.

One dance I do not like is the car sales dance. I do not enjoy the process that so many people seem to love. I dislike it almost as much as I dislike buying furniture. At least furniture lasts longer.

Not only was the inside of my front window dirty in the Highlander, and my spare tire on the car with a blown flat tire flapping around in the back, the final insult came when the gas tank was low.

I still had no idea what kind of car I wanted. Car? SUV? American? Japanese? Jeep?

I went back to the Lexus guy who was kind enough to take pity on me before and suggest I extend the lease on the Highlander. He could have tried to push me into a new car, but perhaps he saw the futility of it at the time.

He and I talked prices, and I decided to look for a slightly previous owned car. I am all for fiscal responsibility, and moving has caused me some expenses. He first steered me to a Jaguar sedan. It was interesting, with all-wheel drive, but it didn't talk to me. We didn't dance. I didn't even want to drive it, although I sat in it. Nice car.

We moved on to the Lexus. Lexuses. Lexi? He pointed me to one that had a 3-year warranty and a 3-year lease. Nice symmetry. He said it was a special deal. I know that dance. I know all the steps, as a matter of fact.

I liked the looks, sat in it, decided to drive it. A nice sedan, mid-sized I guess, all cleaned up like new. Truly, I felt like it was a new car.

It handled well, sounded good, felt nice and tight. He kindly rode with me and did not complain at all. Nice guy, yes?

We sat down in his office and started the next steps of the dance. I offered to leave a few times, as it was getting late on a Friday and we hadn't come to an agreement. I offered to return the following day. He smelled the kill of the hunt. I was amused.

We know I like to be amused.

Eventually, we found a semi-middle ground where no one was really happy except the second guy who did the paperwork. Some sort of manager with a wimpy handshake. A three-way dance ensued. I signed the papers, unloaded the Highlander.

That was painful. I had no intentions of buying a car that day, and I had all manner of possessions in that car. Highlanders can carry a lot, and mine did.

I removed three bags of hardback books from the old house that I forgot were in the back seat. I dragged out unaccountable items. I had bought diet soda that day, and had to lug that between vehicles while they finished up the paperwork. Spare shoes, gym clothes, papers, snacks, extra jacket...I had to carefully crawl around the entire vehicle and look under the seats. I found almost a dollar in change. Dime a dance?

While we finished up the insurance and other information, I called Late to tell her I would be late this time. She asked why? I said I was getting a car. She said call her when I was done.

I drove out with my Lexus, a full tank of gas, clean windows, and five good tires. New tires, actually. I rushed home, dragged the dogs outside to pee, and called Late.

When I told her I would be leaving immediately, she said she would leave in 15-20 minutes. I asked why, since we wanted to get to our favorite restaurant before 7:30, and it closes at 8 pm. She said it takes me 20 minutes to get there now that I moved. I said yes, and I am leaving right now - she needed 15 minutes to get there - I said she didn't need to wait until I was already there to leave her house. Oh, yeah, she sidestepped.

I got to the mall, walked for maybe 15 minutes. I had left in such a hurry that I wasn't wearing the best shoes for walking. I went back to the parking lot after 20 minutes. No Late. I called her cell - no answer.

I know this dance well, too.

I called her home, and her husband said she left 5 minutes ago.

She showed up 45 minutes after I had called her and said I would be leaving right now. We had to eat else where.

She loves my car.

Me too.