I think I can, I thought I could, I thought you could

I think I can get all of my stuff packed, my final essay exam finished, and figure out a way to get to the airport; I thought I could survive downhill skiing (and fortunately was correct!); Thomas (my car), I knew you could make it up every hill and down every crazy steep narrow ford-filled gravel road without any mechanical breakdowns!

One week remains of the great New Zealand adventure!

I went downhill skiing for the first time in ten years! It was a very spontaneous trip with four other awesome exchange students and about 3 hours between being first told about it and leaving. We were extremely lucky in every respect: 1) even though technically we went after rental hours, the guy at the unipol (fitness centre) “snow shed” hadn’t left yet and fitted us with gear anyway 2) we got the last room in the backpackers and found it without looking up its location or asking for directions 3) the weather was brilliant. Two of the girls had been in Tonga the week before so we listened to a CD they had purchased there as we drove up the steep snowy road to Coronet Peak. I spent most of the day on the “easy” slope trying to learn how to slow up by skiing side to side. I went on a few intermediate hills including skiing down from the highest chairlift! The Remarkables were indeed remarkable with their fresh glistening snow, though I spent most of the day staring at my skis. ^_^ Spent a lot of time sprawled in the snow but it was good fun with good people.

Remind me to never buy or sell a car ever again. I sold dear Thomas, my trusty automobile yesterday. He was the best anthropomorphised 1993 Honda Civic to ever roam NZ roads. It was pretty weird watching someone else (much less an unlicensed moody and absent-minded polytech student) get in and drive away, knowing that I wouldn’t ever see him again. The trade also involved dealing with an extremely annoying father whose every phrase was a constant barrage of intimidation attempts. It was sort of fun at first since I picked up quick on what he was doing. I had so many people interested in viewing the car that I never managed to contact them all and, thus, any attempt he made at telling me I would get a bad price if I took it to auction (my last resort if I couldn’t sell it quick enough) resulted in me trying not to laugh while I repeatedly explained that I was confident I would find a private buyer. It became less fun when he finally made a reasonable offer and I ended up having to deal with him for another half day. I did get to make faces at some giggling babies during the 20 minutes it took to sort out the fact that the actual owner of the car had brought no forms of identification with her.

Thomas, the little car that could: