I Hate This City. A Love Story

I live in a strange place.This old city that has cemeteries, factories, beaches, and deer, right in the middle of urban neighborhoods. 

What other places call Downtown, we call Uptown. Because we do. And do not ever abbreviate the Saint. Do not ever EVER add an apostrophe and an s. That pisses us off. 

We adore stories, especially about Americans, who mix up Saint John and St. John's. Did you hear about the travel agent who sent a whole triple A hockey team to the wrong city? That was awesome.

We are a city like any other city I suppose. If all other cities are ass backwards and proud of it. I hate it so much sometimes. 

We have our local crazies that we support wholeheartedly in their right to wander their respective neighborhoods being crazy. Do NOT fuck with our crazy people. We know them by name. We know their stories. We love them. Leave them alone or face the indignant wrath of the community. We have no qualms about sicking a news chaser group on you.  

We swear each side of town breeds it's own type of person. We don't always trust snobs from the burbs. Looking at you Rothesay.

We know what is wrong with our town and we get defensive with outsiders. We seem unwelcoming yet totally welcoming. Here have an Alpine and shut up, you Upper Canadian bastard. 

We know that you are going to judge us and we are working on getting our shit together but it is slow going. We want to show you what we are good at, just, shhhhhhhh about the rest.  

We have an aging conservative population, loads of old money, even more poverty and a dismal job market. We have grass roots community groups that get mittens on little hands and lunches in bellies. In the summer even the poorest kids can get to a beach. Each side of town has well known spot to cool off and who knows how many "secret" ones. 

We have high rates of sexual assault, addiction, teen and single parents, domestic violence, and women seem to disappear or be murdered an awful lot. We do have a police force....

We can't even have food trucks :(

We have a problem with a bad attitude. We are negative nellies. We don't want outsider's opinions on our problems. We barely want our own actually. Oh glaring problems with obvious solutions? Please don't point those out. Lalalalala can't hear yoouuuuuuu.

We are too much like Springfield. Yes, as in the Simpsons. We even have a nuclear power plant outside of town and a Mr. Burns. Our mayors are generally Quimbyesque in effectiveness if not in gender or background. Moncton is our Shelbyville. 

We are envious of other cities and other provinces. l think social media is showing us what we are missing. I am glad so many of us went West and are posting pics. Thank you rest of Canada for rubbing the awesome things about modern times in our faces. Life is not all deep fried seafood and April Wine at the Three Mile.

We have good places for sushi. We have galleries showing of local artists. We are using our boardwalk for outdoor patios and events. Local bands are playing new and exciting music. We have festivals. We have yoga and belly dancing.  We have a place that sells fancy olive oil and we have veggie buying clubs for local produce at good prices. We have bike trails and walking trails and we have seals swimming in the harbour. Marsh creek freezes now. People want blue box recycling.

We have Zombie Walks and we have people fighting for the right access abortion and to sell food out of trucks. Saint John is not the town it used to be. Saint John doesn't seem as old but it seems more mature. Ready to do....something. Not sure what, but dammit we're ready.

I will never move from here, that I know. No place I have ever been has made my heart swell as when I see something uniquely, beautifully Saint John. Looking out over the South End from on top of the hill watching the sun rise over the roof tops. The storm swells at Bayshore or Saint's Rest over West. Seals in the harbour, bald eagles on the power lines. Rain on cobblestones. King Square lit up in the snow. Lobster boats loaded with traps at the wharf. The giant trees in the old neighborhoods. Crown molding and marble fireplaces in dive apartments.  

This is home. It needs work, but it is mine, and I love it.  

Post from the Snowpocalypse II

I am now certain I would prefer zombies. 

If a zombie said "Well I guess those global warming people feel pretty silly now!" I would not need to stifle my exasperation. I could axe it in the face.

"You wouldn't see me working for a company that makes employees go to work in a blurricane!" You know, what with all those other jobs with the good companies floating around... Machete to the frontal lobe.

"Is Tim Horton's open?" because although you won't work for a company that expects employees to risk life and limb of themselves and first responders, you fully expect other people too, because you want a cup of really shitty coffee. *wipes brain bits off face and takes swig from flask*

"But I HAD to go to ___ activity/event/place during an RCMP order to stay off the roads! Children would have been disappointed!"  Oh, COME ON!! 

Does the part of our brain that controls arseholey behaviour get snow blindness? More snow is coming later this week. Ugh. I thought I was sick of schlepping through it and trying to get around and do stuff. That is indeed a pain in the ass. I am really, really, sick of schlepping through people's awful attitudes. 

I get complaining about the weather. Fucking look at it. Complaining is all we have. 

Please stop being dicks about people either going to work and/or staying home. Choosing to stay open or to close is never an easy decision for employer or employee. Especially for small local businesses or franchises. Someone will always think that if they want something then it must be "essential".

Regardless of what you think you know about labour code, many employees don't have the choice to stay home without fear of penalty. Call centers are a nightmare about this. The decision to stay home, may not cost  your job but it could mean the difference between a Monday to Friday day shift and working 3:30pm to 11pm for three months, with Tuesday and Wednesday off.

Many employers that do allow their staff to stay home face backlash from pissed off customers. Don't be part of the reason why they have to go to work. You stay home. And while you are there, don't decide a snow day is a great day to call local businesses because you have time. Don't call for take-out.

We get the head's up on these storms a week ahead of time. Make at least a half assed attempt to have stuff you need on hand. "But my special snowflake wants McDonald's" is a stupid, stupid reason to go out and a selfish ridiculous reason to encourage employers to stay open during bad weather. 

Winter is HERE. Grab your #stormchips, gird your loins, and if you cannot do anything to make the snowpocalypse easier for the  people around you, don't go out of your way to make it harder. 

Posting From Hoth, Snowpocalypse 2015

I wish I had an epic story of survival or tales of neighbors overcoming racism and helping each other out. Nay. 

My Snowpocalypse has been more schlepping to work and having to hurl myself into the snow banks to avoid death. 

We have had an official metric shit tonne of snow. Sidewalks are not a priority. There are no sidewalks anymore. There is snow. Lots of fucking snow. Too much snow for a human sans a ton-ton to try and wade through. Too much snow for any reasonable person to expect another reasonable person to walk in, that is certain. 

It is a damn shame that people in motorized vehicles are apparently completely unreasonable. I am not sure if it is proof that there is, or isn't, a God that my prayers of instant fishtailing into an explosion were not answered each time I nearly died today. There would have been 9 victims today. I counted.

Maybe if the cars were the size of AT-ATs  and I really was a hostile armed rebel I would understand better why drivers are trying to kill me.

Anyway thank you for not hitting me I guess. It has been a few years since I rolled around in snow banks, especially not in business casual attire. So you know, that was something. 

Supposedly we are getting another 25-30cm over the next day or so. 

 I don't have time for snowballs and I don't have any scrappy dare-devil friends to help me rig trip wires. There will be eggs in my purse tomorrow. You have been warned. 

Shaken Baking

I thought I had properly done the mental autopsy on my family's relationship with Donnie Snook. I had my white night going over every interaction, feeling and trying to find something I had missed. I don't know what I was hoping I would remember. Catching a glimpse of a NAMBLA tattoo peeking from under a sleeve? Anything in hindsight that seemed inappropriate or fishy I guess. 

The thing is I can remember when my son first started school I WAS suspicious of Donnie. What were his motives? Is he really that altruistic? Why is he here from Newfoundland? What did he leave? Why does he take the kids swimming and everywhere else? Why the fuck does this man give a shit about these kids when no one else, sometimes including their parents, do? Like everyone else, I ended up being put at ease. It all just seemed, ok.

I admit  I am a suspicious person. I tend to feel the more bible thumpy and churchy a guy is then the more likely he likes kids bums. That is my inner dialogue and I admit it is a bit extreme. However, this suspicion has kept me talking to my kids about owning their bodies for as long as I can remember. I talk about the fact that adults are not always right and that if an adult tells you not to tell, tell immediately. They know to say no very very loudly. They can deliver wicked kicks to the shin and nads and run. They know to be wary not only of strangers but of the people who are supposed to  care for them. 

I did not realize just how much my tenuous grip on sanity depended on all these conversations being purely hypothetical. They were never supposed to be anything but just  in case scenarios. They were never ever supposed to be tested. Every year I could count down one year closer to my babies not being considered prey by some perv. 

Then I fucking find out they had been spending hours a day a few days a week for fucking years with the Big Bad Fucking Wolf himself. What the fuck. 

So I did all the things I guess you do. I went a bit crazy. I questioned the kids. I called friends and ranted and raved. I read the news and watched the news. I wrote and I had a cry and I thought  it was all back to ok for us.

Then I realized I had made about eight batches of brownies in three days. From scratch, using recipes from the UK that required conversion, sugar that had to be processed into superfine sugar and chocolate and nuts to be chopped up and weighed. I adapted recipes until they were mere shadows of their former selves, using successful tricks from one in another and changing ingredients like a whore changes panties. I created my own original recipes and executed them successfully for the first time in my life. In a few days I applied every skill I had ever acquired and poured my heart into my stand mixer.

I found the comfort in comfort food is found not only in the eating of it. I was so helpless to do anything real for my babies. There was no actual boo boo to kiss, only  the spectre of evil  in our midst, how the fuck do you kiss that better?

So I fed them. I now know what it means to use love as an ingredient. I was making gooey morsels of my love and protection and every ounce of mothering I could do so they could eat it and be safe. 

To everyone feeling as I do with each new article, here, have a brownie.

Here There Be Monsters

I never really  read any of the books on parenting or subscribed to a particular school of thought.   At 19 my goals were 1. survive the misery of pregnancy 2. sleep whenever possible 3. raise a happy healthy non douchbaggy hard to molest kid. 

16 years and two kids who are happy, healthy and definitely not douchebaggy later I am fairly certain I have done good. It was never easy, still is not, and of course kids are always works in progress as are grown-ups. I know I could not have prepared myself. Parenting is like going through life walking a tightrope while blindfolded. You have no map and there is no clearly marked area labeled Here There Be Monsters so you can avoid it. You navigate through the years white knuckled and  maybe laughing a bit manically just praying you are not screwing them up too badly each time you miss your footing or fall down. 

You hope the messages you are sending them keep them safe when you are not looking. You hope you choose the right people to care for them and you hope your teachings and your babies and your trust are never tested. 

To my complete and utter horror my trust and that of thousands of parents in my town were tested this week. For my tiny brood at least, their hearts are shaken but their bodies are safe and sound. I could not be more grateful that my brand of straight up no bullshit, humour and interrogation has at the very least made them appear as lousy targets for predators if not kept them out of their company. 

For that I admit I am both relentlessly beating myself up and telling myself I could not have known, the city was duped and it was not my fault. Still, I am horrified, sad, betrayed, suspicious and paranoid and did I mention beating the shit out of myself?

I am fortunate that my kids do not appear vulnerable despite belonging to a very vulnerable demographic, from a single parent home, below poverty line, urban neighborhood, ADD,absent fathers, working mom. I am so glad that the lessons in confidence, love, self esteem and street smarts worked. I am also devastated to know they were ever tested. More kick-the-guttiness, the very fact that I was able to work, to set an example and provide a loving environment is almost entirely due to the support of the programs founded by the man who could have done my children harm.

I simply don't fucking know how I could have worked without the hot lunch programs ( there are still schools that just release kids at noon hour with no cafeteria) and after school clubs that let me depend less on child care I could not afford or get subsidies for.  Lets not forget the countless times he took the kids swimming, to hockey, parks and movies (ARRRRRGHHHHHH!!!!) giving me a few precious hours to breathe. I trusted him implicitly and the kids adored him.

The night before his arrest my 10 year old daughter was chatting with him, one of the only non-related adults on her facebook. (oh god)

My feelings of gratitude, shame of feelings of gratitude, blind rage, terror and confusion are just waiting to become tears eventually. This predator's help let me become the parent, and person I am now, and yet, he is a monster and I find myself clinging to my children as well as my faith in humanity.

I hope the programs are not tainted by scandal and lose support from the community. They are not only sources of filling lunches or mittens or after school games. This relief is giving other women with families like mine the ability to live with dignity, away from social assistance and the trappings of poverty. They are essential services in a world where we need safe places for our kids during working hours. 

Weed out the predators, hunt them with every bit of available technology and empower kids to speak up and be the owners of their little bodies, punish the ones who prey on them with stiff sentences and comprehensive services for the victims. Bring justice and closure but please do not stop supporting the Chicken Noodle and After School Clubs in Saint John. Do not shut them down to forget. Forgetting and not talking are the worst thing to do. Remember and stay vigilant, keep going and vow to keep on keeping on in spite of the bastards, heal and grow.

These kids and the slew of honest caring volunteers need the biggest show of thanks and support ever in this their darkest hour. Please lets restore our faith in each other by doing the right things. You know, for the children.

The Friendly Skies

Soooo about that airline industry then. I did my time. Employee, passenger, critic. I've done it all. I have heard the stories from all sides. I LIVED it. I still have flash backs, tics and rage issues.


I once located a lost Mexican in the Vancouver (YVR) airport from my desk across the country in Saint John (YSJ). He was joyfully reunited with a seriously freaked out exchange student hostess. I got a letter that got pinned to a bulletin board. One day all the letters got taken down with no warning. An anonymous employee put up a small sign.


All Commendations Are Suspended Until Office Morale Improves.

The sign stayed up for a surprisingly long time. Employees thought "that sounds about right." The managers assumed one of their own did it and Boy,  what a great motivational quote! They probably had post it notes and wall plaques made.


On more than one occasion I put my headset down on my desk and wept. It is not as sad as it sounds, I was not alone. At any given time at least two people were having some kind of breakdown or getting pregnant  to get some time off.


Same shit every day. No empowerment, over worked Leads who had minimal empowerment and customer service managers who locked themselves in offices surrounded by travel posters and flat out refused to talk to customers. It was almost fun to try and ask them too. The look of fear was exquisite.


One of them thought he was awesome and tried put red and blue pin stripes on his giant white car. Not sure exactly how the police may have found out but apparently they think that's weird and worth a visit. Something about "impersonating and officer of the law" or something.


A "female" csm used to wear amazing black pantyhose with small white schnauzers on them. Pretty much sums up her personality, strange, unattractive and sweat inducing.


Once while many of you were waiting 84 minutes and up on hold I was pulled of the phone into the general manager of the call center's office, for a total of about 20 minutes. I had a sweater on the back of my chair you see, that bothered him. Did I mention that 18 of those minutes were me waiting out side his office to be seen? Like a kid at the principal's office. MMMM dignified. When he finally opened his door the round headed bastard had forgotten why he called me in. That is some good management right there. Hope you liked the hold music. 


Once, again during peak season with 50 minute hold times I was asked in all seriousness to account for approximately 4 minutes of time in "Not Ready" 2 and half years before. I don't know, I was peeing? Screaming into my own lap? Bashing my  head of the desk? Writing a futile request for a manager to please for the love of God call this guy who's baby we lost en route to Dulles International, at least give him a voucher or something for a new one.


What you don't realize is the poor bastards you are abusing about shit they have absolutely no control over, like the apparently "headache inducing" colour of the upholstery,  are going to bat for you every day over things like safety and getting your requests right and yes, even trying to find ways to save your cheap ass a few bucks. That letter and coupon for fifty bucks you got? Blow jobs. Someone took it in the face to get you that. Hope you feel good.


99% of airline employees do not agree with making customers fend for themselves. If only so they don't have to hear your incessant whining.  The other 1% have specific customers in mind whom they would like to see pay $3500 to be duct taped to a wing with a bowl of soup for lunch.


You realize that when the corporation made you the customer cart your own bag around and print your own tickets and pack your own lunch that real people with lives and kids and dogs wound up unemployed right? And the "lucky" ones who got to stay get split days off random shifts and the pleasure of strapping on a head set and being told what lazy shit heads they are all day.


The thing is they know, I know and you know that the fun, easy part of flying is being take n away by penny pinching companies that suck the life from the customers and front line employees while rewarding themselves with big fat bonuses.


I got a bonus once working with the airline. It was a Bulk Barn gift basket with a bottle of screw top wine. This was the mid 90s before the wineries started being eco friendly and dropping the use of corks. I felt screwed. Still drank it, and may or may not have had a friend drive me to the office to puke in the parking lot at 3 a.m. I admit nothing. 


I know a million different things make flying suck. There eleven different levels of pure fuckery to deal with and in the end you are tired bedraggled and broke. But you know what? Take the bus from St. John's to Fort McMurray and see how happy optimistic rested and on time you are at the end of it.

Job Posting

Blue Balls of the Soul Inc. Job Posting

Job Title:		Boyfriend		Job Category:			Service & Labor (non-profit)
Department/Group:		Department of Entertainment & Household Chores		Job Code/ Req#:			BF4N0W
Location:		Lovely Saint John NB		Travel Required:			Maybe, depends where you are now, what you consider travel & where I want to go.
Level/Salary Range:		Unpaid		Position Type:			Intern
HR Contact:		The committee will contact you		Date posted:			June 26, 2011
Will Train Applicant(s):		Training will be determined based on potential		Posting Expires:			Without notice
External posting URL:		www.blueballsofthesoul.com
Internal posting URL:
Applications Accepted By:
E-mail: thegirlwithblueballs@gmail.com Subject Line: I want you to want me			Failure to comply with submission instructions will result in immediate rejection.
Job Description
Role and Responsibilities The following is a partial list of duties and related tasks you will be expected to perform should you be hired for the position. The more of these that you can do without being asked the more likely you will be hired on permanently after the internship. Permanent positions are also unpaid. ·         Mix drinks, carry heavy things, open car doors & hold my purse ·         Fix stuff & help paint in a charming and funny way like in movie montages of happy couples doing renos ·         Give my girlfriends non creepy compliments, help them move & pick us up from the bar. ·         Find common ground with my guy friends, buy some rounds and suck it up they were here before you. ·         Shamelessly suck up to my family. It will be a first and they will think it’s hilarious. ·         Don’t bug my kids. They will let you know if they give a shit you exist. ·         Support crazy schemes, random adventures, bizarre projects and public shenanigans. ·         Know when I am sick of you for now and it is time to go home before I do and leave. Qualifications and Education Requirements & Preferred Skills Candidates must be literate, have a grasp of how the world works and the goings on in it. If most news is gathered from the Daily Show, that is fine. Working knowledge of household and female plumbing is a must. Additional Notes All applications will go through a rigorous evaluation/mocking. Only those candidates moving on to the 2nd round of the interview process will be friended on Facebook.
Reviewed By:	Spell check				Date:	June 26, 2011
Approved By:	The Central Scrutinizer				Date:	June 26, 2011
Last Updated By:	Typing stuff in boxes				Date/Time:	June 26, 2011

Sign Here...Here...Here AND Here...and Initial There..aaaaaannd Here

I'm not doing well with online dating. To be fair, I have not even opened a message yet. Messages annoy me. I don't like the implied responsibility  that I must respond. Or even open them.

I definitely should not have signed up for the ones that do not let you at least look at the people on their site before joining. Seriously, if 90% of your male members are more Costanza than Clooney just say so. Some women really don't care. In my experience the less classically attractive men are better in the sack because they are more grateful to be there.

baldingdudesinsweatpants.com they could offer free subscriptions to the ladies from playingbingoinstretchypants.com

I made those both up. But help yourself. Be proactive, buy domains and build the sights. I wont sue for royalties until I think you have a sweet nest egg built up.

I know I am not exactly helping myself. I know I am a big weirdo. I insist on hanging out with wildly inappropriate guy friends who only introduce me to more undesirables. I don't even know where to find speed dating or singles mingles or whatever the hell you would find here. It is not like I live in a big city with places to go and stuff to do. Oh God no. I can't even visualize what Saint John would have to offer.Ten Dollar Speed Dating with a bottomless cup o draft? ewwwww

I enjoy coming up with tag lines and stuff for the profiles. My personal favorite was " Going out with me is like dating your best friend. Minus all the awkward extra penis." oh, little did they know...

I also enjoy passing time by drinking gin & tonics and making profiles for other people, setting the most permissive email notification settings possible and immediately forgetting the user name and password. Yet, at the time, I had perfect recall of their email addresses height weight and eye colour. Its almost as if I thought it would be funny to see how much dirty email they would get and just mashed the keyboard with my palm hit tab then mashed again to confirm. Almost.

I am considering an application process.

I will give a bunch of Boyfriend application forms to people I think have decent enough judgment. All forms must be received by a certain date. Then they will be copied and packages with the forms, photocopies of valid photo ID along with two personal references will be forwarded to a jury of my peers.

These learned men and women of the jury will carefully consider each application and present me with their top selections. We will then sit down over food and wine and creep on the candidates' Facebook profiles. The ones who get friended go to round 2.

Round 2 will most likely consist of more forms and copies of eHarmony questionnaires who's results will be determined using no scientific process what so ever. Mostly more drinking creeping, laughing and possible impersonations. This exercise would allow me to indulge my passion for asking awkward questions demanding a response then showing that response to all my friends and mocking it for hours.
I am not optimistic anyone would survive round 2 but the finalists would continue to round 3. I'm not sure what this round would entail, possibly an essay and sex. I haven't thought that far. I keep getting stuck on round 2. It interests me more.

Incomplete or spoiled forms will not be accepted.

I also can't accept any offers from guys claiming to read this blog. I appreciate that you read it absolutely. Its that you  read it and want to fuck me that freaks me out. Like, Really? MY blog. You're sure? Which one, the one about the magazine or the one about how I have a dick? What about that did you find attractive, and please sir, be specific. Come again? What sort of fucked up man purse of psychosis are you prancing around with?

For some reason I assume a dude who's attracted to me knowing Brent is waiting in the wings would be prone to prancing.

Tick Tock

I was watching the show about the bitchy matchmaker lady on that channel for female cliches and decided to think about some of the stuff she was saying. Just for fun.

One thing was to work out my own "issues" prior to going out looking for love. This is new. I have always hoped that I would meet and fall in love with someone who would wave his wand (tee hee) solve all my problems and if not fix my flaws, love me in spite of them. 

I don't have time for that. Issue free or not I do not think an emotionally healthy octogenarian will be as sexually appealing as a fucked up thirty ish. I am going to skip this one.

She also says I should not limit myself to a certain type or age. Okay, I can deal with this one. Within reason. I have ventured 10 years my junior and 13 years my senior. I feel that a few more years on either end and I would be either predator or prey.
As for type... Well, if under employed yet somewhat handsome is a type that would be it. Like real estate I seem to be drawn to fixer uppers. But can never flip them at the end. Not for a profit. Can't even give them away. I`ve tried.

Turd of wisdom the next, act your age and don't be judgemental.

Fuck you lady you're not the boss of me you low class new money cow!!!  scans ass and emails it to network..pours age appropriate gin & tonic.

Believe me, the very last thing I need to do right now with regards to the opposite sex is NOT be judgemental. I think I need to use ALL my judgement, my friends' judgement and the Catholic church may have some spare judgement laying around I can borrow. I'm waiting on a call back from the Vatican now.

Lets put it this way, if we gathered up my exes in a room and asked them to produce more than one tax return each for say 2005-2011 most would flee the rest would look confused and have a nap.

As for the acting my age part I don't know what that means. I am going to skip it.

I am no closer to finding someone to date than I was three months ago. I know that it is all my own fault. I am also violating another of her rules on a near constant basis, I don't make time for dating.

I can make time for just about anything. I justify validate and make appear normal, the most outrageous pass times. Dating is not one of those. Dating is a job interview. Job interviews suck. I ALWAYS get the job. I always hate my job. Therefore a successful date will result in an annoying partnership. I may have a weekend of of drunk closet purging planned but yes that is far too busy to meet you for sushi. And anyway, you invited me for sushi, now I have to explain why I don't like the trendiest food to hit Saint John in years. See, pain in my ass. I don't have time for this crap.

See, I am not one of those women who is all giddy at the thought of a phone call Wednesday for a date Saturday with Mr. Suitable. Maybe a movie through the week if you're really goal oriented. 

The thought of two Mr. Suitables a week every week until I find the most suitable of them all is exhausting. Because you know I would have sex with them.

What happens if I spend all this time that I MADE just for dating and he's a big dumb dud where I need him most? Even 10 years or more younger than me there is no excuse. Step by step instructions are available free online, there is no excuse for that kind of nonsense in this day and age. Sorry Fumbles go home. 
I am not going to sit and listen to some dudes blah blah blah for an average of 3 hours a date over 3 dates and not see what he really has to offer. I can pay for my own dinner, after 9 hours of time lost I would like my reward please. If not satisfying sex, then the satisfaction of judging the sex. On my mark, GO.

How much time do you spend with a new car before you buy it? You might ask your friends what they know about, get their man's opinion on it. You might even call your parents, its a big decision. Years of your life committed to one vehicle, possibly tens of thousands of dollars. You put a LOT of thought into buying a new car. Maybe even more than 9 hours. I am damn sure of one thing that no matter who you are, you most certainly did not buy your car without taking it for a test drive first.