Eric picked me up from the library last night in a Chevy Lumina that he'd taken out for a test drive. He wasn't thrilled with it; it drove rather roughly, and we spotted evidence that it had been in an accident. The car on which he really had his eye, a 1998 Saturn, was waiting back at the dealer, where another couple was trying to buy it. They, however, were fighting the tide of bad credit, and the salesman had told Eric privately that their odds weren't good. Sure enough, when we got to the car lot, Rick (the salesman) informed us that the car was ours for the taking.

We were actually doing quite well at the bargaining table. The Push/Pull/Drag sale that we had been offered before was still in effect, meaning that our rather worthless, dead Nissan Maxima would bring us $2000 in trade in value. Not only that, but Eric secured financing at a fantastic rate through our insurance company, which meant that Rick wasn't going to be able to finagle us into a high-interest loan arrangement. The only thing left to bargain over was the price of the Saturn, and he wasn't about to let us dicker it down any more.

As it happened, though, Eric's research had shown us that the sticker price really and truly was a bargain. He got the Vehicle Identification Number as well, and after a bit of checking around on the internet, he was able to learn that the vehicle had had only one prior owner, and no negative records in effect. It was a good deal! Rick let us take the Saturn overnight, and we had our mechanic go over it this morning. No problems could be found, so we took Rick a check. He was obviously unhappy with the whole bargain; he told us later that he and the other salesmen were in an informal competition to see who would bring in the worst trade-in. He thinks that our poor little Maxima may win it for him.

Oh, but it was sad to leave the Maxima behind in the spot where the tow truck had left it! I have such fond memories of this car. Eric got the Maxima not long before we began dating, and he was still in "New car, hold open doors" mode when we were in the early part of our courtship. Piles of us used to climb into the Maxima for lunchtime rushes over to Eat 'n Park; Eric and I used to lie back in the seats in the pleasant, dry heat of the warm summer afternoons, sun roof open, killing time before going inside the music building. This was the car in which we drove to Myrtle Beach for our honeymoon. This was the car in which he first told me that he loved me.

I had to wipe away a few errant tears as we drove away from the lot in our new car. I imagined that the old one was confused as to why it was being left behind. Perhaps Eric's habit of granting personalities and souls to inanimate objects is contagious. It had a good, long life, though, and perhaps whoever purchases the Maxima at auction will be gentle with it...before they dismember it for parts, that is. For all my sentimentality, I'm not completely delusional.

But isn't the Saturn beautiful?

I'm terrible at this holiday. It doesn't help that I'm easily the most gullible person I know; I've been known to fall for the silliest, dumbest jokes imaginable. That, coupled with the fact that I lack any semblance of a poker face - people have told me that my eyes hide nothing - means that April Fool's Day is just not my day.

Once, when I was an undergrad, Dr. Beall's grad assistant had the misfortune to come up against my practical joke deficiency. He came up to me in the hallway on April first and asked me if I had any pieces ready to have performed at the New Music recital scheduled for the following Tuesday.

I, being completely unaware of any plans for any such recital, burst into laughter. This, obviously, was a practical joke! I had caught him! He hadn't tricked me! He continued to insist that a recital had, indeed, been scheduled, and that it was his responsibility at this late date to come up with a program; I laughed in his face. Finally, visibly frustrated with me, he stalked off. I was concerned, but I didn't know whether or not to believe him. Eric confirmed that there was a recital on the agenda, but he did it with such a big smile that I though he could have been joking, too.

Later that afternoon, I came upon a newly printed schedule of events; the New Music recital was scheduled, in black and white, just as the grad assistant had said. I apologized profusely, and told him that he shouldn't have asked me on April first, but he was still upset for the next few days.

Heather got me this morning with her "I'm having triplets!" email. Eric didn't try to pull anything on me, and he's darn lucky he didn't. I may not be swift enough to catch him in the act, and I may not be coy enough to come up with an equally clever prank, but...but...well, I'd think of something! Yeah, that's the ticket.