In Which I Do Not Buy a Singing Car
My news: I have a new car!!
That was how I spent my day yesterday, car hunting. What was supposed to be a one hour trip to look at a local dealership somehow turned into a somewhat more intense trip lasting over five hours.
Spent a lot of time looking at various kinds of Toyotas. One dealership had three Tercels, two of which were very pretty colours but manual (no thanks) and one that was automatic and black (no thanks). They had a good lineup of Corollas, all but one of which were noticeably outside my price range. The one within my price range was red, and noticeably used. Not thrashed, but used: chips, a few dents, general wear and tear. The thing that really got me was the noise it made when it started backing up. You know those horribly annoying cell phone rings that people put on their phones? Yeah, imagine something like that, and then make it at least ten times louder. I heard this song and thought, "What the hell is that?!" And then realized, in shock and great amusement, "Oh my god, it's coming from the car."
I also looked at some Tercels at another dealership, one of which was a gorgeous blue on the outside with the classic Tercel blue/grey interior. It was so comfortable inside, so very familiar. Which is when I realized, it would be so easy for me just to get another Tercel. I know what it's like to drive a Tercel, and I like it. I love the small car feeling, and the terrific gas mileage, and I know where all the controls are. And yet ... it's too easy. I sometimes make comfortable, easy choices just because they are comfortable and easy, not because they're the best choices that I could make.
The other Tercel was a gorgeous green with a tan interior. "Hey," I said, "I didn't know that they
made Tercels with tan interiors!" It was comfortable, it was nice, and it wasn't so very familiar that it was just like having Wren again ... No, I told myself. No, no, no, and walked away.
It was easier to walk away knowing that I had already seen and driven my car earlier in the day. I was just very irritated by the fact that I wasn't going to have a pretty coloured car.
I found my car at a Toyota dealership, beside the red, singing Corolla. It's a Nissan Sentra. The colour is ... well, in the sunlight it's very silver. The rest of the time it's sort of gray, and sort of tan.
"Great," I said. "I have a salt-coloured car."
But what could I do? It's my car. Tangled up in my usual indecision (especially when related to purchases with large price tags), I went back to look at it one more time. No quibbling about it: my car. It's one of those cars that I was immediately comfortable driving. It feels bigger than Wren did, but that's because it is bigger. There's more car to this one, but not so much that I feel like I'm driving a boat (or the--shudder--van).
Have to drop off my license plates tomorrow, probably, and go have a chat with some people at the bank. I should have my car by Monday. Woo!
