The Family Truckster

"I think you're all fucked in the head.  We're ten hours from the fucking fun park and you want to bail out.  Well, I'll tell you something.  This is no longer a vacation.  It's a quest.  It's a quest for fun.  I'm gonna have fun and you're going to have fun.  We're all gonna have so much fucking fun we'll need plastic surgeory to remove our goddamn smiles.  You'll be whistling "Zip-a-dee-dah" out of your assholes.  I gotta be crazy!  I'm on a pilgrimage to see a moose.  Praise Marty Moose!  Holy Shit!"
                                                              --Clark Griswald

It's with this quote in mind that I forced my family on the family vacation.  I often think that my life is a movie as it seems to resemble ones at times.  I am a stay at home dad who's wife works in advertising.  My wife has to go to on business trips to pitch Schooner Tuna.  I can lay a guy out with one punch.  I am Mr. Mom.  I know the title of Mr. Mom bothers many of the stay at home dad world, but I can't deny the similarities sometimes.  I grow a beard in the winter and I use a 22 or 23, whatever it takes.

And so when I went to buy my new family truckster for the cross country road trip to Mount Rushmore and all places in between, I wasn't surprised that I got fucked.  I got the switch, the old "Hey, sorry we sold the car you made a deal on, how about this fine family wagon!"

"You think you hate it now, wait until you drive it."  Those are the words that went through my head when Mr. Douchbag car salesman backed out of our deal for the family minivan.  A van that we very much wanted to drive across the plains of South Dakota.  We have a lot of things planned!

"Sorry man, we sold it already" he said.

I reminded the man that I had a check in my hand for the van.  That we had a deal.  That after all the negotiations and talking, we ended the last conversation with, Great!  You have a van.

I don't want to be hard on the guy, after all he's a douchbag car salesman.  By their very nature, they have to fuck you over.  A dog has to eat it's own shit.  A cat must piss on the curtains.  Carsalesmen must fuck you over.

He did try to sell me another car.  I car that in my mind was a wood paneled station wagon which would eventually go careening over the guardrail because I was busy flirting with the hot chick in the vet.  I, of course, told him to suck my balls and to get the car that we had made a deal on.

"I don't know what to tell you man (because now we are bros apparently), I don't got it.  But I do got....."

I didn't let him finish.  I told him about the family vacation that we would soon be going on.  We were going to stop on the way to Mount Rushmore and see a missile silo, an honest to god fucking silo.  A silo that once held the Cold War demons away from America and it's heartland.  We were going to stop at the badlands and see some prairie dogs and buffalo.  We were going to dress like cowboys and find Ms. Kitty's saloon.  I don't want another car, I want my car.

It wasn't working out and he kept trying to up sale me.  So I downsaled him.  I told him if he knocked 10 grand off the price and threw in a reach around, I would consider it.  I told him that if perhaps he cutoff his left nut and gave me free floor mats I would consider it.  I told him that if he did the undercarage treatment with his tongue while forsaking his parents, I would consider it.

It didn't appear that we were going to make a deal.  But I was undeterred!  WE HAVE A FAMILY VACATION IN 3 DAYS YOU DOUCHEBAG!

We would get a minivan!  We would load up the family!  We would name it Aunt Edna and I would call my kids Audry and Russ for the entire trip!  Marty Moose is just out there, waiting for us!  We would damage a national monument in style, in the Minivan!

And we did.  Just not in the car from that guy.

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