It Helps to Be a Middle Child

As if you all haven't heard enough drama about my car...

What would you do if you found the car of your dreams and negotiated racing stripes as part of your deal, and they had to order three different sets of stripes until they were the right ones, and the whole process took two months, and when they finally got the stripes put on, they looked like crap?

If you were me, you would've taken one look at your dream car and told the dealership that the crappy stripes looked like crap and it was not acceptable and you wanted the entire thing redone. As in I can't believe you brought my dream car back looking like this. As in I can't believe you think this looks good. As in I want these crappy stripes taken off and the whole thing done. Again. As in I don't care how much more money it costs you but my dream car will be fixed.

Then you would've taken a tape measure and checked every space between the stripes and you would've gotten the opinion of every construction worker in a twenty mile radius and they would all laugh at you and tell you it looks like crap. And you would find out that the stripes are off center by as much as an inch and that it looks like someone with palsy did the cut outs around the license plates and rear emblem. Then you'd really get mad.

Then you'd go Pompei on their butts and the result would be that you'd get a custom paint job with better looking stripes than you'd ever imagined. And then, you'd finally be happy. As soon as your plates come in.