Carlsbad Pizza Port.
Sitting outside in the parking lot is my brand new (second hand) 1998 Land Rover Discovery Series I. And today I drove by several of the other cars I was considering — new, for the same price or more — and laughed out loud. I’m really really happy with it, though it doesn’t quite seem like “my car” yet (despite the hellefino and the Greek worry beads on the dash). Dark green, 33,000 miles, loaded.
I’ve left the Audi and the motorcycle at the dealership. SEP.
Had a final motorcycle ride up the freeway, though I really consider the ride back from Temecula via De Luz an actual ride. Lost a lot of money on that transaction, though I did keep all my arms and legs, as well as other less necessary appendages.
I’m a lot happier now that I don’t have to think about what car to get, nor worry about how much to put into the Audi before I can sell it. I could drone on and on about the deal, but I don’t think I did too badly, and hopefully drew a fine line between “leaving money on the table” and pissing off the sales guy. So far, I haven’t found anything about the car that couldn’t be fixed in about a minute. Found the owner’s manual under the driver’s seat.
I was sitting on the beach a few minutes ago, lining rocks up in an ever-increasing spiral. I think one of the accessories I’d like to take to Burning Man is a chalk line; then make Nazca lines, or crop circles on the playa.