Spent the last two hours looking at cars online and talking to various car-buying-type people I know (i.e. Carlota and my father.) and grimly running Carfax reports. Predictably, most of the cars I like and can afford locally are ex-rental cars, which, depending on who you ask, are either bad or not that bad or the transmission will fall out of the car in fifty thousand miles and land on the neighbor’s dog and also there will be explosions and I won’t be able to get a warranty and thus when a chicken leaps into the engine in a fit of melancholy and feathers are sucked into the ignition and the whole car goes up into a fiery ball that smells vaguely of KFC, I’ll have to pay for it out of pocket because I foolishly didn’t get chicken coverage on my insurance and I’ll have to declare bankruptcy. And it will have been a rental chicken, as well.
Found a Pontiac Vibe in my price range that apparently WASN’T a rental, and will schlep out to look at it tomorrow. And the Altima on the lot next to it. If neither of these proves feasible, then I will become deeply depressed, come back to Pittsboro, test drive one of the ex-rental cars, wonder if I’m making a horrible mistake even looking at it, come home and go heavily to the bottle. I will do all of this with a seven year old in tow (except for the bit about the bottle) because it’s a teacher work day tomorrow and this is the price of Kevin driving me around.
I think my problem is that I don’t like cars. I mean, I don’t dislike them, but it’s a thing that gets me from point A to point B, not an object of passion. I do not feel the thrill of driving which some friends profess to have. I have never loved a car. I felt a vague affection for my Nissan, which affection died today at approximately 3 pm Eastern. I have never drooled over a car. I think old Beetles are cute, but I think llamas are cute too–it doesn’t make me want to buy one.
Buying a new car does not thrill me. It’s just a horrible amount of money I have to lay out for something that I then fear will break. It is an opportunity for me to be both foolish AND unlucky. There is no joy in this process.
May Ganesh look favorably upon my shopping, and spare me from the wickedness of salesmen.
