Look at my new ride, guys! I traded the Kia for a '92 Buick LeSabre!
Oh. my. God. Talk about a grandma car. This? Is the kind of car you see on the evening news wedged into the lobby of a drugstore because Nana hit the gas instead of the brakes. The thing is twenty years old and only has eighty thousand miles on it. "Grandma! I've got your car!" I popped open the glovebox to find a bunch of cassettes (yes, cassettes) of big-band music from the forties. If this was a Stephen King book, I'd be waking up in a malt shop. (Whaaaa? Where am I? Why is there a jukebox? And why is Tommy Dorsey playing on it?!)
Oh, and like I mentioned, it doesn't have a registration sticker, so I'm probably going to jail. And the brake light is on, AND the check-oil light, and the paint is peeling off the roof and the quarterpanels are rusting AND it rides like a Buick, which is to say, like a piece of sh*t (so ... BOUNCY! wheeeee!), but your grandma would love it. Or maybe your great-grandma.
And it's FREE to drive while my car is in the shop. Shutting up now.