Tuesday, December 12, 2006
My Friends Car.
I'm in the Sidekick's Ride.
Not right now, but I've been using it lately.
The Sidekick is away in the Frozen North right now, and he's letting me drive his car while he is gone. It's a nice little car, handles well, gets good mileage, and overall it is a very nice ride.
But it's got a funky smell.
I'm not sure if it's something that's gone bad or if it's the cumulative effect of the Burrito & Diet Coke farts that he lets out while he is in there. But something isn't right. (Anyone who's seen his apartment will understand.)
It's not like it's a bad smell. Not rotting corpse in the trunk or anything. (God I hope not.) I don't even notice it after a couple of minutes. It's only when I get in and out of the car. I'm going to get an air freshener and change the smell a little bit. (Lavender, anyone?) He'll love that.
I'm not dissing him. Really I'm not.
I'm grateful that he's letting me use the car.
(He'll never let me use it again after this, but I'm sure he'll forgive me in time.)
I think he'd be more offended if I critiqued the music he has in the car than anything else.
To the Sidekick:
Thanks for letting me drive your ride, brother. It'll be gassed up, clean and sparkly when you come back. If you want that back-home feeling, I'll drop a bomb in there before I pick you up at the airport.