Car Quest

The time has come. Actually, the time has come many times before, possibly even before I bought my car ten years ago. Honestly though, my little used ‘89 Mazda 626 served me well, best $2,200 I ever spent. Granted, the air conditioning never worked, it had a gouge in the right door, and the hood was a faded color that didn't match the rest of it, but it also got great gas mileage, got me where I needed to go, and survived not one but two separate and severe rear collisions. “Bluestreak” has had a good life.

After the last accident, my dad noticed how worn my brake lines were when the car was on a lift. Between a rusting chassis and the level of difficulty of such repair, he's pretty much washed his hands of it. “You can drive it,” he said, “but one day you won't have brakes. So be careful.” Obviously, I had to press further after a statement like that, and he couldn't tell me precisely when I'd lose my brakes. “Could be tomorrow; could be a year from now. Just be careful.”

Indeed, after nearly two weeks of driving my dad's 2004 Chevy Impala, the brakes on my own beloved jalopy felt a lot softer to me. I informed my dad that I was now driving a lot more slowly and he seemed surprised. “I didn't tell you to drive any differently; just be careful.” The closer he gets to 80, the less I understand him. Perhaps he's just trying to scare me into doing something long overdue, but it is working.

It's not like this is the first time I've thought about it. As far back as 2004, I considered buying a new car to be a New Year's resolution I should but probably wouldn't keep. And through the years, friends and family have tried various angles to persuade me. “What if you had to take a girl out? You wouldn't be embarrassed to pick her up in that thing?” On the one hand, my social life was sufficiently sad that I really didn't have to worry about it. On the other, perhaps the point was that I might actually have a date with a nicer car. I didn't want to hinge my future on someone that superficial, but the zen notion of “if you drive it; they will come” was appealing. When I was borrowing my dad's car, I did get a few smiles at traffic lights instead of eyes cast aside in disgust.

I had some vacation time coming to me. Days I hadn't used in 2007 would expire before the end of March, so I found myself looking for the best breaks in my schedule to use the last of them. As a result, I'll only be working on Tuesday and Thursday this week. I felt a little like I was doing something wrong, playing hookey, but they're not my vacation rules. Taking advantage, I set out to some car dealerships on Monday with my dad in tow. “Don't buy the first car you see,” advised my mom as we headed out. “Why not if he finds something? You can't just go window shopping!” argued my dad. It's taken this long to even get me to look, so there was no way I was going to buy a car the first day.

My criteria was pretty simple. I knew what I could afford, and what would afford me the best value. A brand new car is never a great investment, worth half what you pay for it the minute you drive it off the lot. On the other hand, I didn't need another old car. My dad's too old to do that kind of maintenance, and though I can do the work with him directing me, it'd be nice to have more free time on weekends, and not risk having anyone in our family be short a car when something went wrong. What I needed was something slightly used, maybe a 2004 or a 2005 vehicle without a lot of mileage, a previously owned or leased automobile. I also wanted all the things I didn't have already. I wanted power windows, to not have to turn a crank up or down. I wanted airbags, to never fear the next time someone collided with me. I wanted air conditioning, and perhaps a CD player, and perhaps power locks too. Things most of the world considers standard would be luxuries for me.

Hearing good things about Honda from a few people, we checked out some places. Amid a lot I found my dream car, a black Accord. It was only a two door, but had a tempting balance between sensible car and sports car. It was also a 2008 vehicle and close to $30,000, more than twice what I was looking to spend.

I came back down to reality and browsed the used section, helped by a salesman one of my dad's friends recommended. I found a nice 2005 with all the features I was looking for and only 16,000 miles. The color wasn't quite what I wanted, a bit of a grayish green, but of all the cars we looked at it seemed the closest. I took the guy's card and left a number for him to contact me as he was expecting other vehicles in later in the week.

The next dealership seemed a little shadier. None of the cars had prices on the stickers, and all had a sticker saying the car wasn't for sale yet and to ask a dealer when they'd be available. We didn't linger too long. At another dealership I found a black version of the 2005 Accord I'd looked at. It had a leather interior instead of cloth, but otherwise had all the features of the green one I'd considered. There was neither a price nor mileage on the sticker, and I had to track down a salesman who seemed more interested in reading a newspaper than leaving his desk and coming out to the lot with us.

The mileage was a little higher than my “maybe” car, at 22,000, and the price was about $5,000 more than what the first guy was asking for. He showed us a few 2004 models, many of which had the windows tinted almost to opaque. “Someone's gonna SHOOT him if he drives one of those!” offered my dad helpfully to the salesman, who pretty much ignored him. Inside, he gave me a card and suggested I browse their website for more options.

My quest is only beginning, but I know more than when I started. I'm getting a better idea of what I like and don't like, and future vacation days will probably find me on more lots. And before buying anything, I'm definitely going to want to try a test drive. No matter what, after ten years, I'm going to have to adjust. When the time comes, I'll have to act swiftly, before I change my mind. I've never bought anything more expensive than a computer, and even then I thought of it in terms of how much time it would take to earn back the money I'd spent. “If you think that way, you'll never buy anything,” pointed out my dad. Maybe he makes more sense than I realize.