Twas A Good Day For A Deal

If there ever were a catalyst in my life, her name is "Mom." A week ago, I was talking to her on the way home from work.

"You know," she said, "You really do need to get a car."

"Yeah," I replied, "I do."

And I knew it. She went on to give me the reasons why, but her first sentence made all of the pieces of the stuck machinery of my mind fall into their right positions. I could see that borrowing her van was putting her out. She was borrowing her Mom's car and Grandma was left without a car. It was OK for a week or two, but I shiver to think of how long it's been since the Honda died. Tuesday, August 1, 2006. Shit. Two months. We didn't have their van all of the time, but we might as well have.

Two weeks ago, Doc got a great part-time job that fits our life. I'll let him tell you about his work, but from where I sit, it looks like it's going to work out. The people are nice and they are interested in seeing him succeed, which is a fairly rare experience for him on the job. It's challenging work but not laborious. Of course, this now means we can afford another car payment and insurance. So, I checked with him to see if I had the go-ahead to get wheels. He agreed it was way past time to get a car and trusted me find the right car.

Incidentally, I had spent some time hemming and hawing about bringing Stella back into my life. For a mere twelve hundred bucks, it could be done. I kept asking my Mom what she thought and her answer never changed: It would be cheaper to fix the Honda than to get a new car...in the short run. Then my thoughts would turn to Stella's faults: the leaky driver's side window, the rattle of the road, the need to pour oil into it twice a week (that wouldn't change). I'd shiver, remembering how it felt to drive that car in the winter.

So, last Saturday, the girls and I woke up and saw it was raining. I called my Dad.

"It's raining," I said, "Wanna go look at cars with me?"

"You know I do!" he replied and it was on.

In my family, it always seems like we go car shopping in the rain. The urge to find new wheels only finds us when three conditions exist: sufficient moisture accumulated in the lower atmosphere, reflected by high dewpoint temperatures; a significant fall in air temperature with increasing height, known as a steep adiabatic lapse rate; and a force such as mechanical convergence along a cold front to focus the lift. (Thank you Wikipedia). So, it seemed right that I would buy a car on this day.

I got the girls ready and we went over to Mom and Dad's. My Dad, ever the tester, asked me if I were sure I wanted to get a car. I was.

"Today's the last day of the month," my Mom mentioned casually, noting that salespeople are motivated to meet their monthly quotas. That fact, coupled with the rain pointed to good hunting for us. We all agreed: twas a good day for a deal.

Dad, Riley, Lucy and I piled into the van and headed on down the road. I had checked out a few cars online and talked with my bank. I knew what I wanted and what I could afford. We set off to the Saturn dealership first, where I test drove a Mitsubishi Lancer. It was a four-door and pretty square. It did not have cruise control or a tape deck, which I need for books on tape. It did have a five speed transmission. But it didn't really move me. So we moved on.

We drove around a Ford lot (gag) and a Toyota lot (too expensive). Dad suggested we head on over to Park Honda, where his old racquetball partner is a salesman. My Dad bought his Honda from Pete and had a great experience. When we got there, I parked really, way too far away from the dealership. We tromped through the chill wind and took a look at their used cars. There were three Saturns, a VW Jetta (had one), and some old fart mobiles.

And then there was a 1999, black Honda Civic, which was pimped out. It had tinted windows and an eight inch diameter exhaust pipe. As we were walking around it, admiring it, I tried the doors and found them unlocked, so I opened it up. Lucy climbed right in and started to drive. I popped the trunk and found a gigantic sub-woofer.

"Hmm," my Dad said, "Looks like he mighta raced this car." My Dad is a fan of the fast and furious type car make overs. He'd like to make-over the Del Sol, in fact. As we were smirking over the Civic, we were approached by Nathan who wanted to help us out. I suspect he was alarmed that we were making ourselves at home and letting the little ones climb all over the interior.

"Pete around?" my Dad asked.

"I'll go check." said Nathan and scampered off. He returned fairly quickly, letting us know that Pete was with a customer, but that he had paged him and could help us until then.

"So," he inquired, "What do you think?"

"Was this car raced, do you think?" my Dad asked.

"Did you look under the hood," Nathan asked back.

"Nope."

So we did. Not only did the thing have a huge exhaust pipe. But there was also some kind of air intake on the engine.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "He raced it."

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" my Dad wondered.

"Yeah," he said. "This is pretty basic; I've seen cars that were way more customized than this."

"Can I take it for a drive?" I asked, unable to stand it anymore.

"Sure," said Nathan. He lead me through the paperwork to get me behind the wheel. He had to drive the car off the lot for insurance purposes but promised to hand over the car once we got to the movie theater parking lot. As we drove off, the radio pounded and Nathan changed the station and turned it down. The radio panel had an animated light show that reacted to the music. Nathan showed me the CD player concealed within it.

We got to the parking lot and I got out and walked around to the driver's side. Nathan said, "Uh, I think it has fog lights, though they may be just decorative." he pointed to a switch on the dash, definately after-market. He flicked the switch and we walked around to the front of the car.

"Yep," he nodded, "Just decorative."

They were these twee little purple lights that were on either side of the license plate. At this point, I just started to giggle. I got behind the wheel and Nathan started to tell me how to get to the express way. I pressed the clutch, put my foot on gas and began to ease out onto the street.

Oh. My. God. Was it loud! We're not even breaking twenty-five miles per hour and my ears are actually hurting. We get about a mile down the road. Nathan's telling me about this or that feature and I just start laughing.

"I am too old for this car." I said.

"Too loud?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah!" I replied.

"Yeah, I'm 37 and my loud car days are over too." he agreed, laughing too. "So, I take it you don't want to go out on the highway then?"

"Ah, no, I don't think so."

We both started giggling and as I pulled into the lot I turned to him and said, "I think I'll remember this test drive for the rest of my life."

When we got back, Dad and the girls were playing in the play room, watching the Notre Dame Perdue game and having popcorn. Pete was still busy, so Nathan and I went to see Jerry the used car sales manager. Nathan and I explained what I was looking for and what my perameters were for a car. Jerry poured and poured over his list.

"I've got a Saturn Ion and two Saturn SC3's," he offered.

"Nah," I said, wrinking my nose.

"What about a Jetta?"

"Nope," I said, "I had one before and the repairs were costly."

By the time we had exhausted my options Pete came up. He asked expectantly what I was looking for and we were about to decide that there wasn't anything here for me. But, I needed a car and Pete was Dad's friend, so I took a leap.

"Why don't I try that Saturn Ion," I offered. "I can't do the SC3, I need to be able to wrestle the kids in the back and those things don't have a roomy back seat.

"OK," said Pete and we headed out.

"I don't know much about this car," he admitted. He is a Honda man, afterall.

"That's OK," I said. "I do; I used to have one, an SC2."

He put the tags on it and got behind the wheel to drive out to the movie theater again. On our way, I was trying to figure out if the symbols and buttons on the steering wheel were for cruise control or radio control. I scanned the owner's manual and discovered they were for the cruise. I began warming up to the car immediately. It had both a CD player and a tape deck. It was five-speed and it was a Saturn, very safe.

When it was my turn to drive, I sat behind the wheel and I felt lik Harry Potter must have felt when he finally found the right wand. Angels chorused and the sun broke through the clouds. I didn't even need to drive it at that point. I knew I was going to buy this car. But, after all that paperwork, I figured I ought to go for the ride.

When we got back, we walked right over to Pete's desk to start the paperwork, which probably stopped my Dad's heart. Fortunately, Pete's desk was close to the play area and Dad and I could tag team on the negotiations. I sent my Dad out to look over the Ion. When he came back he started going back and forth with Pete over the scratches on the hood. Scratches? I saw no scratches. Then again, my last car had giant SPOTS on the hood, so forgive me my oversight.

Dad went back and forth with Pete and Pete checked with Jerry on the firmness of the price. When he returned, he said, "Jerry shoots from the hip. That price is the lowest he'll go." The offered price was a thousand dollars under the sticker. So, we went for it. And after much ado and flying paper work, I drove out of there with Mr. Lawrence five minutes after closing time.

Nearly every day since, I've called my Dad and thanked him for going with me and getting that car. He spent hours entertaining the girls while I shopped. He helped me find a good deal and a good car, which he has never failed to do. My parents are quite a team. One pushes, the other holds me up. Kisses to you both, Mom and Dad and I'll see you on the highway and thank you Grandma for giving up your car for so long.


Edited to add: Sorry for the abrupt ending, but I've gotta fly. Maybe I'll fill in the details later, but this post is already far too long.