On June 22, 2010, I was ready to go (in the physical sense, at least). My barrels were already on the way to their destination, and my suitcases ready to go. My aunt already wished me farewell, as difficult as it was, and my uncle did the same. I’d seen most of the people who mattered to me the most, having been thrown a going-away shindig and an intimate dinner for a select few. All I needed to do was bring in my car for sale before my flight. A few hours before my flight, I drove to the dealership that said it’d buy my car.
Prior to bringing the car in, I’d been in contact with the dealership, Car Cash, since February, when my stepfather saw a huge advertisement for it. I went online and researched it through the Better Business Bureau, which gave it a grade of A+. I was comfortable with the rating and made contact with Car Cash from there, saving e-mails and making phone calls to it, speaking with different representatives to make sure that this was legit. I confirmed that I could bring in the car at any time and have it purchased by Car Cash. I considered selling to private buyers, but the few who first showed interest later reneged, and it’s usually more clear-cut to sell to a dealership.
I brought the car to Car Cash on my day of reckoning. This would be the last, and major, burden that I’d have to deal with. I already knew that I’d have other bills to deal with from home whilst overseas (thanks a lot Sallie Mae, you’re the best!), but getting rid of this car would be a huge relief. No more insurance, car note, gas, toll, etc. I was glad to get this off my back.
I got to Car Cash and showed the dealership manager all my paperwork, including the e-mails I’d exchanged during the past 3-4 months. All of a sudden, the conversation stopped. I figured something was up when he said “I gotta talk to my manager”, walked into another office, and started whispering behind closed doors. He returned and told me that I’d only get less than 1/2 of what was due on the car, plus I’d have to pay him what was due on the car.
Oh really now. 😐
Now let’s get something straight. I’m not a mechanic, but I know when someone is trying to jerk me around & play me for a fool. I don’t like having my intelligence insulted. Based on the conversations I had over those past few months, and based on the car being 2006 make/model, this deal turned out to be shady. So as the manager spouted his bullshit about what he’d offer me for the car, why I had the nerve to think that I’d get a better deal than what he was offering, and what I had to pay him, I floated into the Twilight Zone. In essence, this shady ass car sales rep was telling me that he’d give me a certain amount, and then I’d have to basically give him the money back to pay whatever I owed on the car note.
Yeah. He must have seen Sarah Palin written on my forehead.
I politely asked for my paperwork back, said “thank you”, and walked out. This left me with a car that I had to leave in the United States with no plans about what to do with it next. Because my flight was only a few hours away, I did what was best: I missed the flight.
I called my stepfather, who would’ve been my chauffeur, and told him what happened. He got mad and so did my father, who was even more pissed. I told both what the plan was, not having much of a choice, and drove back to where my stepfather would’ve gotten me to drive to the airport. I called my aunt & uncle, who were happy that I’d be home for a few extra days, and headed back to their house. I e-mailed my recruiter and sent him my new itinerary.
I contacted Expedia and the original airline that I would’ve flown with and after over an hour, I was able to cancel the original flight with the option to use said flight for up to a year, and booked a new flight with a new airline for close to double the price. This was driving me deeper into the poor house, but it’s not like I was ever rich anyway. Besides, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving the car with no plans for what would happen to it next.
So instead of leaving on June 22, my new flight was on the evening of June 27. It was probably for the best that I delayed my departure for a few days because the weather was terrible; on the very night that I was supposed to leave, some unexpected heavy rains and thunderstorms complete with lightning occurred, which delayed/canceled many flights out of my home airport. Maybe it should have happened like this, who knows. I was able to get some much-needed sleep, something that I’d lacked since the week before. (Moving is not for the faint of heart, mind or soul.) In addition, the 5 extra days gave me extra time to handle some extra business, including arrangements for my car. They weren’t perfect arrangements, but the plans were better than no plans at all. I also got to spend some more time with a few friends and, most important of all, my aunt & uncle.
Finally, June 27th came and it was time to go. I felt like vomiting again, but I had to go. My aunt couldn’t even watch me leave the house, it was too much for her. My uncle was sad but proud of and for me. My stepfather picked me up and we had lunch near the airport. Afterwards, he drove me to the airport, gave me hugs & kisses, and left. I became weepy & called a close friend of mine, asking him to tell me that I wasn’t doing something I’d regret for the rest of my life. It didn’t help much, but he said I was doing the right thing. Besides, all my shit was en route in someone’s huge freight ship, so there wasn’t much of a choice. 😐
At 6:00 p.m., my flight began boarding. I called a few friends and gave them my love. My flight got delayed a bit for some reason, but after about 90 minutes my flight took off.