I know I keep saying this, but it’s settled: I’m buying a Fiat. Within the month of May, I will own a brand new white Pop model Fiat 500 with brown and cream interior upholstery. And it will be just adorable. I went on another test drive yesterday, and I’m officially sold. It’s way better than a Yaris (sorry Toyota, it was a tight race until I saw the interior- why would you put your dials in the center of the console?!).
I’m suffering from some anxiety about buying such a small car, though, and these worries manifested in a dream last night. In the dream, I bought the Fiat, but was given a small plastic car instead. The kind children play with. And I couldn’t tell the difference. It was bright yellow and made of that solid but soft plastic that kids’ giant toys are made of. I drove off the lot amid a loud buzzing sound the engine made, and couldn’t tell I wasn’t driving the Fiat I’ve been pining for during the last two months.
Eventually, I got out of my little plastic pedal car, picked it up with one hand, walked back to the dealership and stood there at the counter where I demanded, “This is not a Fiat. Where is my Fiat?”