Let My Saturn Go!

why were micah and i not born amish? we would kick so much ass in the amish world. we would be the coolest amish people that ever lived. our rock band, "pass the pennsylvania dutchie", would earn us secular acclaim; an article in rolling stone magazine and countless invitations to late night talk shows. micah and i, the most awesome amish people who ever plowed, tilled, quilted and birthed, would shun all the temptations of a "secular" life. we would know. we would know that a life outside the fold of our community would be a life in a world infused with evil. and that would mean crossing paths with the evilest of all evil-doers...... car dealers.

sadly, we are not amish. we are stupid angelinos, and we need stupid cars. the following is a sad story. it is an admission of the doe-eyed, "chrissy you do it", moron that i am; and of the mystically optimistic, "let's pray that when we get home there will be a ferrari parked out front with a big, red bow and a hand painted sign with a really awesome font that you never imagined existed, that reads, To: Emily and Micah Love: God" , weirdo that my dear, sweet micah is. most of all, the following is an admonishment. listen:

the lease on my saturn, (aka: one of the biggest mistakes of my life) was up soon. i called my financing company to ask what i should do and they say to make an appointment at the dealership to discuss my options. i make an appointment at the saturn dealership to discuss my options. i'm pretty sure we want to buy the car despite it's broken alternator.

we go to the appointment. we are greeted by don. don is from indiana he is a "hoosier to the core". he rambles on and on about football. he assumes micah likes football. he's very nice, goes on and on how he appreciates our honesty (the car was grossly over mileage for the lease). i think about how disappointed and confused don would be if he knew i had a spy microphone. micah says, "cool", to most of what don says and rocks back and forth nervously.
don tells us that we have options and that the "good folks" at saturn of the valley, would help us choose the one best for us.

then, he walked in...

a mysterious stranger entered the room. while everyone else was wearing polo shirts bearing the trusted saturn logo, this man wore a tight red t-shirt, tailored black slacks, and lots of gold jewelry. he was introduced to us, by don, as, "michael moses, the number one saturn salesman in the world. really! he's number one in the world!". michael moses wasted no time. he motioned for don to get out of the way and started making calls. while he made calls at don's desk (cluttered in indiana football memorabilia and photos of his kids), don whispered to us, "oh, you two are in good hands. michael is the best."

the next hour is a blur. there were a lot of questions, "we have to do this today" and "tomorrow will be too late". i think we almost bought a new car. wait -- yeah, i'm pretty sure that we barely pay rent each month, we pawn stuff on a regular basis, we keep bank of america in business with insufficient funds fees, and we almost freaking bought a brand new car!

after a solid hour of panic with micahel moses, the number one saturn salesman in the world, i had to go to work. micah was told to get me to work and hurry back. we, by now in a complete stupor, nodded in urgent submission. i went to work, micah went back to the dealership for the next 6 hours.

thankfully, by midnight nothing was final and we were slowly but surely coming to our senses. after church the next morning, we were even getting a little annoyed. could it be? have we been manipulated? by lunch, we were pissed. we had been had and we knew it. michael moses was not parting the sea of our sticky situation, but rather, effing us up our asses!!!

then i called mom and dad. please note: i am not proud of this, but their experience in every realm of financial success and failure has been an invaluable resource. they immediately pointed out that we were being manipulated in every direction. here's the part i am most ashamed of: i allowed dad to call the dealership. he told them to, "unwind the deal. leave them alone."

the final chapter brings us back to the dealership. we had to retrieve our old car. we knew that a confrontation with michael moses, the number one saturn salesman in the world, was inevitable. we slowly made our way to the showroom. as usual, i talked a big talk, "i'll be damned if i buy anything from that asshole! bring it on!". micah grew quiet and then quieter the closer we got to the door. i knew he was nervous and so prepared myself to do the talking, armed with the afore mentioned attitude. we stepped inside and up to reception desk. i politely asked to know where i might find my car so that i may remove it from the premises. it was then we met our fate. "oh, it's the mcgraws! i was just talking about you! i can't believe your doing this!" it was michael moses, still number one, but this time in a different tight red t-shirt.

at this moment, something happened inside the usually non-expressive micah mcgraw. he freaking snapped. (note: you will have no frame of reference of what voice to read the following in. the world has never known the full pent-up wrath of micah mcgraw, and it is my prayer that they never will again unless i have my camera. i will type the following in bold type. it's the best way i know how to convey what happened next-- bold.)

"no man! you're too smooth! we're done with you! this is over! you're too smooth, man! no way! you knew we couldn't afford that car. that's it! you're too smooth, man."

it went on and on. it was incredible. the showroom echoed every frustrated syllable emitted from micah's twitching lips. heads were poking out of their offices. the world stopped while micah totally lost control. for the life of me, i couldn't decide if i was completely mortified, or entertained beyond my wildest dreams. my physical reaction was to smile nervously and take it all in. i wish you could've been there; it was amazing. when i say "amazing" in regards to my husband, i don't mean like when girls in dorms think a poster of a man with big muscles holding a baby is "amazing". no, "amazing" like a orphaned hippo being mothered by a 100 year old male turtle after a tsunami is "amazing".

we finally, (after further variations of this "amazing" scene) got our car back. we're purchasing the piece of crap, our dignity intact, along with some really funny images burned into my mind of micah's red-faced outburst directed at the number one saturn salesman in the world. oh, and the admonishment? it is two-fold. if you are not amish:

#1 don't lease a car

#2 don't piss off micah (but if you do, don't forget to bring your camera.)