Buying a car in America is a tricky business.
Ric Gianino, "senior" (his quote marks) sales associate at Country Hill Motors is keen to sell us a vehicle. He shows us a Nissan, a Saturn and an awesome, retro, 1987 Jaguar. Unfortunately for Ric, none of them work properly. In fact he can't even get the Jag to start. This, my friends, is the seedier side of the American car industry.
We very nearly make a deal with Eric at Jay Wolfe motors, who wants to sell us a 1997 Acura - the upmarket Honda brand. Only one owner, pretty clean service history, black, sleek - a pretty pimp ride. It's on the forecourt for $5,700. We go in with a punchy offer of $4,000. Eric wants $4,800. No deal, unfortunately.
Joe's got cancer. Joe's mate, who's built a house in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Kansas, wants to sell his MG, which has only done 20 miles in the last 20 years. So, he gives it to Joe to put on the front lawn of his apartment block, so as to get better attention from passers by.
Is any of the money from the sale going to help Joe pay for his cancer drugs? Who knows, but Joe, who's pouring liquid food down a tube directly into his stomach doesn't look as if he's going to live long enough to see the MG sold anyway. Thank God for the NHS.
Wednesday 30 December 2009
Sunday 27 December 2009
Oh so much to write in the last week! I feel dreadful for not recording everything as I have experienced it. My rather pathetic excuse is that everything has gone by in a whirl.
Following on from my last post, we made it to Washington, finally, and proceeded to head out for dinner with a friend. Well, my observation that all Americans were uber-friendly was swiftly dashed when we met one of the most unhelpful people I have ever encountered at the metro station. Not having used the metro before, we were both (my husband, the Major, and I) regarding the ticket machine like aliens from another planet, trying to work out exactly where to put our money in. Upon asking the man at the information desk how to get to Friendship Heights, he simply pointed at a handwritten sign. "The red line" he intoned impatiently.
"I'm sorry, I've never used the metro before, and I don't know what to do."
"The red line!" - this more impatiently.
"But I don't..."
Luckily help was at hand in the form of a nice lady who took pity on us, and proceeded to actually buy our tickets for us. Perhaps the majority of Americans are friendly after all.
The next day, after a briefing at the British Embassy (the Major is extremely important, natch), we took a little trip to the White House. Which was beautiful, in the snow, but remarkably small. Most surprising. Not quite as surprising as the police cars parked next to it, however. "United States Secret Service" they said on the side. Extremely secret, then.
Finally, on Monday evening, we flew out to Kansas. My first impressions of the natives - i.e. the other passengers on the plane - did not exactly fill me with confidence. Overweight, dreadful haircuts, high waisted blue jeans, sparkly white trainers. It was like stepping into a Wham video, but with less attractive characters. I'm a bitch I know, but that's how it was. It was a relief to finally get off the plane, three hours later (for some reason, the pilot was trying to get the air hostess to do the chicken dance - luckily she refused) and be collected by friends, who presented an oasis of normality in the maelstrom of foreign-ness.
Waking up the next morning (we're on to Tuesday now) was another matter. "For better, for worse" was the phrase running most clearly through my head. Wouldn't it be yours, when faced with a suburban scene straight out of Desperate Housewives, only with fewer white picket fences and hot gardeners? I donned my trainers and went for a run, which put me in a better mood. I saw deer leaping across the fields, and the trees reminded me of England. It was only when I got back that I was informed it was probably best not to walk or run in the fields out here - unless I wanted to be shot by a redneck farmer.
Luckily, Kansas City itself was something of a sophisticated relief. Having stocked up on Arm & Hammer toothpaste, Laura Mercier makeup and Marks & Spencers cardis (I was envisaging something like Stalinist Russia, I think) it was a joy to behold a Mac makeup store, Apple shop, Barnes & Noble bookshop and numerous others. I embarked upon spending the Major's money with glee.
All else - Christmas (major blizzard - for details, see the BBC website), Boxing Day (walk in the deep snow) and the rest I won't go into. Suffice to say there was much eating and drinking all round - so fairly standard. I'll endeavour to keep you all updated more regularly, so as to avoid having to wade through paragraphs of boredom. Next up - a road trip!
Following on from my last post, we made it to Washington, finally, and proceeded to head out for dinner with a friend. Well, my observation that all Americans were uber-friendly was swiftly dashed when we met one of the most unhelpful people I have ever encountered at the metro station. Not having used the metro before, we were both (my husband, the Major, and I) regarding the ticket machine like aliens from another planet, trying to work out exactly where to put our money in. Upon asking the man at the information desk how to get to Friendship Heights, he simply pointed at a handwritten sign. "The red line" he intoned impatiently.
"I'm sorry, I've never used the metro before, and I don't know what to do."
"The red line!" - this more impatiently.
"But I don't..."
Luckily help was at hand in the form of a nice lady who took pity on us, and proceeded to actually buy our tickets for us. Perhaps the majority of Americans are friendly after all.
The next day, after a briefing at the British Embassy (the Major is extremely important, natch), we took a little trip to the White House. Which was beautiful, in the snow, but remarkably small. Most surprising. Not quite as surprising as the police cars parked next to it, however. "United States Secret Service" they said on the side. Extremely secret, then.
Finally, on Monday evening, we flew out to Kansas. My first impressions of the natives - i.e. the other passengers on the plane - did not exactly fill me with confidence. Overweight, dreadful haircuts, high waisted blue jeans, sparkly white trainers. It was like stepping into a Wham video, but with less attractive characters. I'm a bitch I know, but that's how it was. It was a relief to finally get off the plane, three hours later (for some reason, the pilot was trying to get the air hostess to do the chicken dance - luckily she refused) and be collected by friends, who presented an oasis of normality in the maelstrom of foreign-ness.
Waking up the next morning (we're on to Tuesday now) was another matter. "For better, for worse" was the phrase running most clearly through my head. Wouldn't it be yours, when faced with a suburban scene straight out of Desperate Housewives, only with fewer white picket fences and hot gardeners? I donned my trainers and went for a run, which put me in a better mood. I saw deer leaping across the fields, and the trees reminded me of England. It was only when I got back that I was informed it was probably best not to walk or run in the fields out here - unless I wanted to be shot by a redneck farmer.
Luckily, Kansas City itself was something of a sophisticated relief. Having stocked up on Arm & Hammer toothpaste, Laura Mercier makeup and Marks & Spencers cardis (I was envisaging something like Stalinist Russia, I think) it was a joy to behold a Mac makeup store, Apple shop, Barnes & Noble bookshop and numerous others. I embarked upon spending the Major's money with glee.
All else - Christmas (major blizzard - for details, see the BBC website), Boxing Day (walk in the deep snow) and the rest I won't go into. Suffice to say there was much eating and drinking all round - so fairly standard. I'll endeavour to keep you all updated more regularly, so as to avoid having to wade through paragraphs of boredom. Next up - a road trip!
Sunday 20 December 2009
Logan Airport, Boston. Three minutes to one on Sunday 20th December. Snow is falling outside. I'm in the Virgin upper class lounge, enjoying the free internet facilities and trying to forage for crisps. What happened?
Well, about 24 hours ago I should have been in Washington (long story - suffice to say I'm being eased into U.S life gently, going via Our Nation's Capital before being transplanted to the cornfields). But the biggest snow storm in decades (according to the BBC website) thwarted our plans, diverting us to Boston, where we're now waiting for a connecting flight. On the plus side, we were upgraded, which I could seriously get used to - flat beds, free champagne, aaahhhh.
First impressions of America? Well, snowy, obviously. Very clean (although that could be the snow). Very friendly. But all I've really seen so far is airports and the Sheraton hotel, so that's not a lot to go on. Further updates later. The fun really starts on Monday, when we get to Kansas. Bring it on!
Well, about 24 hours ago I should have been in Washington (long story - suffice to say I'm being eased into U.S life gently, going via Our Nation's Capital before being transplanted to the cornfields). But the biggest snow storm in decades (according to the BBC website) thwarted our plans, diverting us to Boston, where we're now waiting for a connecting flight. On the plus side, we were upgraded, which I could seriously get used to - flat beds, free champagne, aaahhhh.
First impressions of America? Well, snowy, obviously. Very clean (although that could be the snow). Very friendly. But all I've really seen so far is airports and the Sheraton hotel, so that's not a lot to go on. Further updates later. The fun really starts on Monday, when we get to Kansas. Bring it on!
Friday 4 December 2009
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