A New-Car Smell (of alcohol)

Picking up a new (used) car should be exciting. And it should be even better if you haven't driven for 8 years and the new (used) car is a convertible.  Unfortunately, I would have been happy to leave it at the dealership and go pick it up some sunny day when the Coronavirus had changed its course.  But seeing that it had been paid for before the outbreak, I thought it was safer to have it in my possession.

Before leaving for the big event my thoughts should have been to pack a hat and a scarf and a ponytail holder for the drive back home.  Instead I was worrying about packing the Coronavirus Emergency Kit with plastic gloves, papertowels and pink alcohol.

I entered the dealership with my coat, hat and wool gloves.  The gloves seemed a little less conspicuous worn with my coat and hat.  I was told I'd have to wait a few minutes and a woman led me to an office.  She showed me in through one door and then told me to shut the other door to keep the heat in.  I chose to leave the other door open.  I thought a ventilated room was better than a closed one.

When it came time to sign the papers I realized that I'd forgotten my pen.  It has since been added to the Coronavirus Emergency Kit for future outings.  I used their pen to sign the documents but kept my gloves on and kept repeating (to myself, I hope), "Don't touch your eyes or nose with these gloves.  Don't touch your eyes or nose with these gloves."

We went to the garage where the salesman got in and drove my car out to the parking lot.  He explained a few controls, touching each one as he explained.  I learned nothing.  I just watched his dirty fingers on my buttons.

Before getting out of the car he started to put the top up.  I stopped him and said I'd be driving home with the top down.  He said that in Italy in February, you don't drive with the top down.  I told him not to worry because I'd probably driven with the top down a few times in Chicago in February.

It was time for the send-off.  Like all sensible Italians, he suggested that I stop after a kilometer to put the top up because it really wasn't good for my health to have it down in the cold. Then he stuck out his hand for a healthy Coronavirus handshake and laughed when I refused with my gloved hands. 

Little does he know, I stopped after a kilometer like he suggested and threw the wool gloves on the floor.  I got out the Emergency "Car-own-a-virus" Kit, put on the blue plastic gloves and started sterilizing the interior with pink alcohol.

I'm not sure why it looks like I'm giving the peace sign. I think I was just trying to get used to the gloves.  Or maybe it's foreshadowing that peaceful times are coming.