On Buying a Car

Most of the time, I'm able to make rational, intelligent decisions quickly and with complete confidence. On occasion though, such as with last night, I encounter a situation with choices in which there are no clear winners, or with a high potentiality of significant negative consequences. In these cases, I'd rather eat steel wool than go through the decision-making process. Considering how easily I seem to work my stomach into balloon-animal-grade twists, it'd probably be easier on my digestive system anyway.

In short, I needed a car. I've been putting off shopping for one for a while now, avoiding it like a trip to the dentist for a root canal. While I've never purchased a car before, I think I instinctively knew that it would be a horrible, anxiety-filled process. Unfortunately, I had to take those instincts and shove them deep down into the basement, because the car I had been borrowing from my brother-in-law had engine trouble, giving me the final kick in the butt to correct what was supposed to have been a temporary solution in the first place. Carting home 13 bags of groceries on a bus just doesn't work. Meeting a date at the bus stop is similarly awkward.

Things went fairly well. Sedan, 4 door, and manual transmission were the qualifications I started with. I test drove a few cars but didn't really find what I was looking for. The closest I found was a very slightly used 2010 Ford Focus, but it didn't have cruise control. I thanked the guy and moved on to another dealership. I should have made that the end of my interactions with that particular salesman, but I figured that if I didn't find anything else I liked I'd go back, buy the Focus, and slap in cruise control sometime in the future.

The problem really began when I started looking into a 2007 Honda Civic Si. I talked with a salesman and his manager, and it was looking like they weren't going to come down far enough on the price to make it economically viable. “We” sent it back to financing, just to see what the numbers would look like.

It took an hour. I'm glad I brought a book and my smartphone, or I would have been bored out of my mind. After 30 minutes of nothing, I started thinking that things weren't going to work out. I began to imagine that right then, across town, someone else was headed towards that Focus. They were going to buy it out from under me while I was stuck at Honda. I would have to keep looking for a car, and at that point I did not want to hit yet another lot.

I called the Ford guy, mentioning that I might stop by about the car so that maybe he'd kind of hold it for me, and that was my first mistake. Not twenty minutes later, they came out of the finance department with the price I had in my head.

Crap.

At that point, filled with some trepidation and the knowledge that I would eventually have to call Ford Guy (you know, to be polite), I nevertheless went ahead and through the mentally draining task of filling out the ridiculous mountains of paperwork involved with financing a car and reading the endless amounts of fine print until my eyes felt like they were stuffed with sand and maybe a porcupine or two.

Afterward, I walked to a nearby mall (my car wasn't quite ready to actually drive off the lot) to grab a really late lunch. Along the way I called Ford Guy, to inform him that I wasn't, in fact, planning to stop by anymore. The call took longer than it should have, and I made my second mistake. I should've told him I bought the other car, but no. That, my stupid brain demanded, would be like I went behind his back, cheating on him with another salesman. I don't know why I felt like I owed him anything, but I went with qualifying terms like “think” and “maybe” without coming right out and saying I signed papers.

Basically, I tripped that little competitive switch that I suppose inhabits the brains of all car salesmen, because an hour later I got a call from him.

Ford Guy: “I've got great news!”

Me: “Okay...”

Ford Guy: “What if I could get you a brand new Focus for the same price as the used one you drove?”

Me: “Uh...” o_o;;

Ford Guy: “And this one has cruise control.”

Me: “You...have this on the lot?”

Ford Guy: “Well, no. I talked to my manager, saying that I guessed we didn't have anything as sporty as an Si, but I checked the warehouse, and we have a manual Focus with all the extras. So, when do you want to stop by?”

Me: ::sigh:: “I guess I'll...take a look.”

See, even though I had signed the papers, I was waiting on my co-signer (I have no credit, period. Not bad credit, no credit), and Utah has laws about having 24 hours to back out, so I had wiggle room. I shouldn't have taken it. I should've avoided it like a rabid syphilitic monkey. But I can't. I have this need to please other people and to have them think well of me, or at least not hate me. As much as I wanted to, my neurosis wouldn't let me turn down the offer.

Which is how I ended up at Ford, listening as Ford Guy and Ford Guy's Manager listed off all the reasons I should buy their car, and going back to their finance department to see what rates and payments they could give me. It's also how I went home with massive indigestion and heart burn, wracked by indecision and the soul-crushing fear that whatever choice I made would be the wrong one. I had visions of getting behind the wheel, driving a few miles, and breaking down in a fit of hysterical crying.

I spent all night feeling like I had eaten bad fish tacos chased by super-spicy Thai. Both were highly rated cars. Both had about the same cost of ownership. Both were great deals. How was I supposed to decide?

What it came down to was this: The Honda is the radical choice. It's fun, but not practical like the Ford. The Ford is the conservative choice. It's a practical, college-student-appropriate vehicle. I'm tired of being conservative. There are so many times in my life where I have an impulse or an idea, but I'm too afraid to follow through. I worry what other people will think. I analyze and over-analyze the moment until it passes me by. Part of me wants to take chances and risks, but the practical side of me keeps roping and hog-tying radical me to the ground. It's time I stop feeding practical me, at least enough to weaken it so radical me can escape every now and then, and this car is a symbol of that desire to change.

I'm still worried, but at the same time it's already working. Part of what helped me to actually work up the courage to knock on Roommate's door was the knowledge that the Honda Civic was in my parking space. It was like, “Listen, buddy, did you buy me so that you would start doing this kind of stuff, or did you buy me so you could keep being a scared little pansy?” As soon as I had that thought, I was out of my room and knocking on his door.

Stick that in your tailpipe, Focus.