To say I don’t care about cars might be a bit of an overstatement. Every car I’ve owned has been well-tended, regularly washed — even named, in several cases.
The more accurate diagnosis of my issue with autos is the time required to decide what to get.
Buying a car is nothing like buying a dress. I don’t much care for shopping to begin with, but dress acquisition is relatively cheap, and since fashion evolves, pretty temporary. A mistakenly bought dress can be returned, passed on, or left in the closet until I finally admit to myself that I will never wear it again.
This could take years.
Cars, on the other hand, necessitate research. Research demands time. To preserve mental health, also known as avoiding any retail showroom, my fieldwork begins in the anonymity of parking lots. Hospitals and shopping centers prove excellent for this overview. There, I home in on my most important criteria: Color!
That’s become a family joke, but I’m visual, and it just can’t be helped.
Next, during general driving, I keep a mental log of what cars catch my eye. This helps me discern my favorite brands. I then look up how much these brands cost, suffer the appropriate sticker shock, and then rationally conclude that my current car is just perfect after all.
This approach explains how I come to be driving an 11-year-old car. Counting its predecessor that was leased in 2004, actually I have been driving the same car for fifteen years! What kind of dinosaur DOES this?
Oh yeah. Me.
In fact, I have only owned four new cars in my entire life. Into one of those, we dropped a new engine, so technically, it lived twice.
My new ride will be a downsize and an upgrade, and the process of acquiring it has opened my mind.
A tiny Airstream trailer sounds like fun. Is there a car club for that?
Just researching… (c)
