The new car continues to collect dings and scratches like it’s made of butter. I thought I would calm down about it when it got some other scratches, for example, the abuse the wheel cover took when I scraped the curb in the hospital lot.
I don’t look at the wheel damage every time I go in the garage, but I am entirely incapable of ignoring the new scratch on the new car.
I can’t stop trying to fix it, either. The car wash did no good. Then I tried a fine point pen; did not adhere. Then I tried Rustoleum and a toothpick, and I had some success with a dot of that but it wasn’t quite the right shade and finish and I backed off. I got an email estimate from a body shop, and after I gaped at that, they suggested I could order touch-up paint from the dealer.
And so I wait for the paint and consider the devil’s bargain of having a new car. The sixteen-year red Mini never had a scratch I noticed, but it was red, and now I understand why every other car on the road is that boring champagne color.