Last time I went car shopping, I learned that “BOY HOWDY” was Texan for “OY VEY.” It’s time to go car shopping again, this time in the Northeast, just for me.
We currently own three cars, which means we’re paying insurance for a car we don’t drive. Long ago paid in full, the car sitting in our driveway is a Mercedes convertible without all-wheel drive–as a redhead, I’ve never been a fan. For that kind of money shouldn’t all the wheels drive? Not just the rear ones? I mean really. But Phil loves the car.
My dad kept telling Phil that the convertible was impracticable for the suburbs. A car. A man. And the word “practical.” It’s a combo that shouldn’t exist. When are men practical about cars? They’re little passion projects, or at least projections and ego displays. There are of course city men, who fight car ownership with their whole being, insisting that even if they did need a car one day, they wouldn’t care what kind it was. Until, of course, the day came when he needed a car. Then, he’d hate it, but he’d care.
Surprisingly, Phil didn’t put up too much of a fight. Before Halloween he was darting around town in a brand new two-door car by BMW. Ask me the name, make model or type of engine, who knows. Knowing that he’d be driving the thing to work, I reasoned that it was his car. He’d be the one in traffic, two and from, with an hour commute. I stayed out of the decision process entirely. He didn’t want the feel of luxury, as I would have, no. He wanted sport. I couldn’t believe he’d want a car that didn’t have that automatic trunk function, where the door opens for you. Perhaps that’s a feature prized more by people who drive big and shop big. Enjoy your car dear.
But now, Phil says, it’s my turn. Also paid in full, while the Lexus RX 350 SUV I drive is perfectly fine–I’m happy with it–Phil insists that we trade it in along with the convertible, so I may get an update. “It’s time,” he says. And I guess he’s right, what with depreciation values. He tells me to go start test driving, but in truth, I’m not some test-driving girl. I do my research beforehand. And I care so very little about the brand of a car and care much more about the cute little features. How much mileage per gallon, yes. But really, how many USB ports are there? What about that OnStar system? I do not care if it is a Honda, Kia or Dodge. Truly, I couldn’t care less. It’s not so much about the money as it is about the gadgets and features (when GM sent me a Buick on a trip I took to LA, I was seriously sold on OnStar. Also, after my Riding In Cars with Girls who Talk Like Boys adventure, I’m most excited to check out Cadillac and Chevy. Maybe I really am a GM girl at heart). But the bigger question I have is this?
How big should it be? Granted, I have two children, but know what happens when two children each want to have a play date after school? It means someone is going in the trunk. No, it means it can’t ever happen. Is it crazy to get a bigger car to accommodate a family of friends? Part of me is seriously considering a three-bench car, at least a car that can seat 6, just so we can take one car, when say, I get together with my step-sister and her two kids. However, how often does this happen? Perhaps I should just be thankful for my smaller family, always with the built-in excuse that I cannot drive a van full of kids or pick-up even more kids or become the chauffeur to kids whose parents are all too happy to be uninvolved. Perhaps I should use what God gave me and stick with a smaller SUV, that seats only 3 kids.
Are you happy with your car? I’m now on the market. Also, why have cars stopped coming in good colors? I want hunter green with beige leather interior. Or a really nice navy. And heated seats and heated steering wheel are essential in this blissfully blustery state of New York.