Brand New Car Smell


Its gonna smell good. Like, new good. Brand spankin new good. Is how it will smell, I mean.

I'm talking, of course, about my brand spankin new car, which I pick up tomorrow morning, and which will smell brand spankin new good. It will fill my nostrils with newness, and there shall be much rejoicing.

So yeah, new car, finally. My old clunker has finally reached the end of its pitiable lemon life, and will be forever retired to be being driven by high school kids and junk yard proprietors, and other people who have direct access to trash. I can say this callously and without remorse due to the fact that I've only had the thing a year and it has let me down ceaselessly in times of dire need and low temperature.

In fact, even peripheral parts of the car, e.g. the tires, have let me down at the worst possible time. Like when I'm leaving the studio, in the middle of January, when there's snow and ice on the ground, and I'm in Manayunk, the hill and crest capital of the world....all factors contributing to the worst tire changing environment imaginable. But that was a while ago and I'm over it.

Mostly. The fact is, for some reason I have just an incredibly difficult time buying new things. I buy everything used. Or refurbished, which I think means, "slightly crappier than new, and with a funny smell." That's what I'm comfortable with. That way I know that when I inevitably ruin the miscellaneous stuff in question, at least it will already have been partially ruined when I got it, therefore disencumbering me of at least part of the blame. That's all I really want out of life...to not be responsible.

Also, part of it is the money. Moreso, the money leaving my hand. That's the part I have trouble with. I'm what you might call "cheap." Yeah, that's right, I'm not gonna sugar coat it by calling it, "practical", or "thrifty" or "ignominious." Oh, oh no I won't. I'll come right out and say it. I am fucking cheap as hell. I don't want to buy a new car, a new tv, I don't want anything that isn't stripped down, watered down or broken down. I'll fix it, repair it, tie it up in a knot and throw it in the river. Huh? What does that mean? I'm really just babbling now. But the point is, I just can't spend money.

I prefer, actually, to hoarde it. I just want to have piles of money in my house. I want a money bin that I can swim in like in duck tales. I want to wipe my ass with it. Although, that could lead to chafing....

Anyway, I think I fear spending money, because I have such an unblemished history of making the wrong decision. I almost nearly close to sort of always make the wrong decision, and somehow later it becomes painfully, glaringly obvious what decision I should have made. Like when I bought my current, soon to be former, car. Yeah, I'd say that goes up there with the Jerry Curl and buttless chapps with all time worst decisions. But hey, I shit the bed, and that's that. I'm moving on.

And when I go there to pick up the new car tomorrow, friends, I will close up all the windows and the fully retractable power glass moonroof, and I will slam my face down against the Sport lit LED dashboard and take a big whopping whiff of that brand ass spankin' new ass car smell. Ass. Because, in all likelihood, I may never smell anything new again. Unless I'm wiping my ass with money. And then that new smell will probably smell a whole lot like my ass.