My car has a cute...huh?

I took the plunge and bought a newer car yesterday! This was not an easy thing to do. I don't take change well, especially when it involves committing to a regular large monthly payment. Heck, I haven't even given in to the satellite people and gotten real TV, and I've lived in this place almost six months!

As far as the old car went, it still got 25 mpg, it was paid for, insurance was only $33 a month, and it cost next to nothing in upkeep. Okay, it was ugly as sin, a 1987 Ford Taurus wagon with the protective coat gone and half the paint with it. It plowed through snow like a dream, liked to cruise at 70, and had a 6 CD changer in the back. Who needed anything else?

I hadn't admitted to those who love me, but in the last two or three months, it began falling apart. Big time. The steering was failing, enough that it swerved a bit when accelerating. The headlight switch was a pair of vice grips. The front passenger door handle had broken off. (Oh, shoot, I have the replacement handle around here somewhere. Wonder if I can make an objet d'art with it, for old times' sake?)

The most embarrassing part happened this past week. Something went kaflooey under the hood and it was leaking water. Just enough to create delicate wisps of steam when I stopped at a red light. "Just one more week, baby," I begged it. "Just hang in there 'til my tax return hits the bank!"

I spent the last month preparing myself for change. If I was committing to this, I wanted to do so with confidence! I spent hours perusing the local online car ads, comparing odometer readings, calculating payments, getting insurance quotes, checking CarFax reports. No surprises.

As mentioned in a previous article, I found myself strangely drawn to little red sporty critters, and I hate red! I was certain I had slipped into a midlife crisis! The sane, logical adult in me kept quoting estimated MPG, insurance costs, and the added bonus of four doors, in case I ever took someone besides the dog for a car ride. But I wanted cute!

I spent the final hours on the phone with my daughter the night before, my gut knotted. I had to choose! Cute red Grand Am or sensible silver Saturn? Both of my daughters drive Saturns, and were outraged at the suggestion their cars were more sensible than cute. I finally caved.

The snow had iced over and it was 9 degrees outside when I arrived at the car dealership. Obviously, neither sleet, nor snow, nor bad hair weather will keep this woman from spending when her mind is made up. I told the salesman which car I had investigated online and followed him to it. He tried a sales speech, but I already knew the details. He offered a test drive.

I waited back inside the dealership while he backed it up to the doors. I watched without interest as he went past, then brought the car in backwards. I blinked. "Wow, my car has a cute- er, rear end!"