Mustangs are J-U-N-K

My husband's truck is in the shop, so we borrowed my father-in-law's extra vehicle for the week. Unfortunately, I've ended up with the extra vehicle because the husband needs my wagon to deliver some large items to a few of his customers this week.

I used to drive a dark blue Jetta, but had to sell it in favor of the more family-friendly vehicle. God, how I miss my Jetta. Metallic blue paint, black leather interior, sunroof, fully loaded with all the options and the 6 cylinder motor, ...ah, but I digress. Back to reality, sister, you drive a forest green Volvo. Suck it up, beeyatch.

Now, I've complained bitterly about being forced to drive a Volvo wagon ever since it started darkening my driveway 6 months ago. It's ugly, it's big, it is the headstone on the grave of my 20's...blah blah blah. I will never again speak ill of the faithful Volvo after driving the piece of SHIT I drove today.


Meet my father-in-law's Mustang Convertible, the "extra vehicle".

I got into it this morning, and literally dropped a full 12 inches as I tried to sit. This fucker is lower to the ground than a riced-out Honda Civic. As I tried to adjust myself on the cheap tweed seats, I discovered that I had ripped my pants on a piece of metal sticking out of the cushion. Christ. Small rip, I was late and frankly didn't have time to change, whatever. I finally got myself settled and took stock of my surroundings.

Clean, not overly offensive. Instrument cluster is plain, easy to read. Piece of shit Clarion head unit in the dash. Oh well, could be worse. I started her up.

The loudest, most offensive exhaust sound came abruptly from the ass end of this car. I looked in the rear view and saw a cloud of gray smoke rising. Small children waiting at the bus stop covered their ears. I put it in reverse and attempted to back out.

The shift in this thing is a complete joke. It's so difficult to differentiate between the gears that you basically shift blindly and pray to Allah that it's the right one. The clutch slips constantly. You can hear the wind whistling through the convertible top. Just awful.

At the end of the day, I picked up my oldest son, who squeezed into the back seat. The huge door on that fucking battleship nearly took took his leg off, as the hinge was unable to support the weight of the door due to the 2 degree incline of the pavement.

Everything rattles. The interior styling is non-existent...I can't even bring myself to use the word "style" in reference to this car. The worst part was when I couldn't get the key out of the ignition because there is a key release a full 2 inches away from the ignition that you have to push FORWARD to get the key out. I wanna know what brainiac at the Ford Motor Company came up with THAT one.

I miss my Volvo. I am demanding her back tomorrow. I will never speak ill or fill her up with cheap gas again. I will wash her, and vacuum her, and I will call her "George"...