Baby's Got A Brand New Ride

The day has finally come.

I, Kelly "She Can Drive, Officer, I swear!" Bergin, am now the proud owner of a bitchin' 2007 Ford Focus.

Subwoofer included.
Eusebio, named after the dude who sold it to me for $500 less when I played the cancer card. 
It took a long time to get here, folks.  

Four whole months without wheels is tough. I refused to take the bus because I was afraid I'd screw up the token/card thing and my whole bag would spill out and everyone would see my lame 'good thoughts' journal because my life is an endless cycle of blushed faces.

I left the dealership last night with my title in hand (I think that's what this paper is, I don't know, there's so many, oh my God, I'm such a woman!). Pacific Auto Group, with their tagline of: "no credit because you maxed out an American Eagle card in college? no problems!" seemed to have served me well. I think I got a good deal because in only 36 months, Eusebio will be mine! Free and clear!

The excitement was palpable as I got into my car and turned the ignition. It was then that the problems began.

In an attempt to back out of the dealer ship, I dinged a Porsche for sale, worth way much more than Eusie. As I pretended to be on the verge of tears, the PAC owner backed it out for me and checked for damage, all the while mumbling about how chicas can't drive. I would have been insulted if he hadn't been so right.

I then drove to on the freeway for the very first time. The car began to shake and an awful noise echoed throughout Eusie. I immediately began to curse the gang at PAC for selling me a lemon when I realized I was driving on the shoulder, and the noise was actually coming from the tred marks on the side of the road. Shaken up but firmly in a lane, I headed to Target with Erin without incident. (Unless you count spending the rest of my car money on tea candles an incident.) 

After a successful parking garage experience where I hit no man, woman or child, my confidence was bolstered. I relaxed at Sean and Erin's, jangling the keys in the face of everyone I came across. 

And then...it was time to head back to the Castle, or what you non-castle dwellers call an 'apartment building'. Ilga, my roommate and owner of my new cat, Sophia, warned me the space was tight and that I ought to back in. Immediately my brain flashed back to two hours before and the screams of the good salespeople at PAC. Parking was never my strong spot.

I stalled for awhile but eventually, I arrived at my ancient building. I popped half a Xanax and proceeded to spend forty minutes backing into a spot. 

I banged my mirror twice against a large foundation pole. Only minor damage was incurred, but I sure am glad I got car insurance, even if I did have to legally change my address to San Diego for a cheaper rate. (Thanks, Reuben!)
Now that I have this glorious hunk of metal, I intend to see...the world. Arizona! The OC! Walter White and Jesse in Albuquerque! Wherever the 4 President's heads are. Las VEGAAAAAS. Seattle, if my belief that it's a 12 hour drive is true. And maybe Portland, to find some vegan meatballs!

I'm quite excited about my new ride, even if it does stay in the garage, lest I break it more. Maybe in a few weeks I'll make it back to Trader Joe's for some more sea salt brownies, but it's enough knowing it's there, for my use. One day Eusie and I will see those Presidential Mountain things, and life will be grand.

Till then, this is Carpooling in California, signing off.
(Note: Allow me a moment to thank the men and women who selflessly drove me around (sometimes in exchange for free drinks and tuna salad sandwiches.) Rachel, whose 2009 Jetta makes my 2006 Ford Focus look like a Pinto. Matt, who drove me to bars in his  Maddy-mobile without complaint or acceptance of cash. And Sean, who allowed me a seat in the back of his New Jersey-plated car. I would literally be nowhere without you all.)


  1. Oh darling please be careful.

  2. Sorry, Seattle is a little farther than a 12 hour drive. It's about 14 hours from San Francisco, so it's approximately 21 hours from LA, depending on where you start.