So, it turns out that I may be a car snob. I hate admitting this about myself, but it keeps smacking me in the face. The situation is this: my Mom sled has just shy of 120k miles and it has begun sucking on my bank account. It would be one thing if I were spending the dough on sweet spinners, a kick-ass sound system and a custom paint job that looks like a poop fly. But no, I’m buying things like fuel sensor chips that I couldn’t pick out of a line up of two. This pisses me off to no end. And when I am this bothered by something, I cut it out like a cancer.
My current ride is a grey Toyota Sequoia, named Suki. Yes, I have always named my cars. This is my first non-German car. I had a hard time transitioning to something Japanese, but at the time I pinned my feelings on having given up and joining the carpool line sheep herd and not on being an automobile elitist. I smugly congratulated myself that at least it wasn’t a minivan. What does that even mean? Plus it was the second year of production, so this was still a cool and different kind of SUV. Yeah, well, I don’t know how many times I have cussed trying to unlock someone else’s car in just about every parking lot in Atlanta. Suki’s doppelgänger is all over the damn place now. Definitely time to go.
My next car can’t really be a car yet. I still need the cargo space. And I want a trailer hitch. And third row options. I fantasize about fuel economy and regular unleaded. Plus, Snakebite will be learning to back into retaining walls drive in less than two years and this next car will be what she learns to drive with. I want nice, but not too nice. Oh, and there is a magic money number that I’m going to stay under and that tosses in a huge monkey wrench. Deciding to have a car budget eliminates pretty much anything that would be parked out front at an MTV Cribs shoot. I am slowly making my peace that it will be several years until I have something that won’t immediately be parked next to the dumpster out back when I begrudgingly valet.
I have almost never cared what kind of beater someone else drives, or what brand it is so long as the muffler doesn’t drag on the street. There are exceptions though. Yugos in the 80s were always worthy of humiliating someone, or that Pontiac Aztec. Mon Dieu! Am I right, or what? It’s just hard for me to back slide from the best of snooty German engineering to into something that has Japanese geek appeal, to possibly just taking a freeform dive into American steel. In theory, I could spin it as being patriotic, and “buying local”, which could appease some of my more hippy friends. Yes, I know. But, but, but…I can’t put my finger on it. Am I maturing and making decisions based on actual needs and realistic number crunching or just giving in because I’ve given up?
Stay tuned as the hunt begins in earnest in February.