Wednesday, August 4, 2021

 August 4, 2021


Way back in October of 2012, just before my husband and our daughter left for their planned one-week vacation in the Caribbean, a deer jumped out in front of my daughter while she was driving our 2005 Buick, on her way home from taking her dad to work. I don’t recall if the deer survived, but I do recall the insurance company declared the Buick as a casualty of war. Yes, they wrote it off.

So, while the vacationers were away, I had a dilemma. I needed to find another car, because David had to get to work just a couple of days after returning from his vacay, and at that time, although our daughter was driving him there on a semi-regular basis, she was using our car to do so. So I went to the dealership, and they had this very nice 2009 Buick Allure. It had low mileage, and the price was right.

I gave them a down payment but didn’t, however, commit to it one hundred percent, which they of course understood. I told them my husband needed to “approve” the deal. David came home and seemed surprised I’d found a car. He was willing to look at my choice but decided that he wanted us to test drive a couple of other models, both Chevys, which he preferred.  I have never totally understood why this was, or why he seemed so miffed that I had done what he’d asked me to do while he vacationed—to find another car while he was gone. I’ve never understood why it is that he’s tended not to like the Buicks we’ve had until we’ve had them for a time. He hasn’t actually driven himself or had a license in more than thirty-five years.

In hindsight I think he just wanted to feel as if he had some say in the decision. I was okay with that of course, even as I did all I could to ensure we had a vehicle in the wings, ready, in time for him to return to work. And after test driving two cars of the make and model he claimed to want, he did acknowledge that the Buick was the best riding car, and the best choice. And at under nineteen thousand, it really was the best deal.

We purchased that car with one payment—courtesy of my royalties, which means that we would have no car payments to worry about for a long time—and that in itself was a darn good deal.

A week ago this past Sunday, we drove to the grocery store. Along the way, I heard a sound I recognized as a power steering issue. By the time we arrived back at our house, the steering was beginning to seize up.

I called the dealership and arranged to get the car towed to them and did so free of charge thanks to my auto club membership. They of course agreed to have a look at it, but I had a sense of impending…ending. They had told me in November of 2019 that although the body was in near mint condition on the outside, the degree of rust to the frame and the undercarriage was getting bad, and that it was just a matter of time. And although it lasted longer than expected and I even had the muffler fixed in May, I knew my car was just about done.

My daughter and I had a plan, which we formed shortly after we first received the prognosis that my Buick had limited time left. At the time, we actually believed it would be gone before January of 2020. The plan was that I would use the car until it died, and then I would wait, and use her car when I needed to. And then in the spring she intended to buy a new car, and at that time I could consider her current vehicle “mine”. As it turned out, that purchase was put off that spring indefinitely thanks to the pandemic. And the Buick was still, almost unbelievably, running at the time, so that was fine. Of course, we weren’t driving it very much, so that likely contributed to the Buick’s extended vehicle life.

Despite the pandemic, our daughter was still intending to buy a new car and had been planning to wait until the spring of next year, 2022, to do so. Now, she’s moved that up, and hoped to have the deal done before the cold weather hits.

My Buick was still running, engine wise, when it was towed to the dealership but was no longer safe to drive. To fix the power steering would cost more than two thousand, and that would be a poor use of dollars, because the car’s rear end could drop out on the way home from the repair shop. The car had served us well, but I knew it was time to say goodbye. My consultant at the dealership asked around, and one of the techs offered to buy it from us for scrap. I accepted the offer, but it wasn’t about the money. It was about knowing someone with an interest in cars would get some use from it still. There are parts that can be harvested, so that’s something.

The truth is that for the most part these days, David and I don’t need to own a car. That is to say, we don’t need to go out and buy one right away. We tend to stay home, except for weekly groceries. I have a doctor’s visit once every three months, and a visit to the local lab for blood work just as often.

There was no reason not to take our daughter up on her offer of sharing the use of her vehicle if we need one, until she got her new car. And our keeping her old one gives her one huge advantage, that she told me was the main reason she made the offer to us in the first place.

She’s a PSW who has clients in the community. So for her, a working vehicle is an absolute must. This way, she will have two available to her. If her new car breaks down, or has to have scheduled maintenance, there will be another one here she can use. That’s been the case these past two years that she’s lived with us, anyway. There have been numerous times when she needed to use our Buick and she did. So, David and I made the decision that we would not go car shopping ourselves. We would gladly wait until she has her new vehicle and then use her “old” one as our own. This felt like another life change for us—and one that was a bit harder to process than it appears to be on the surface. Like we’ve entered a new stage of life.

But the good news—and I love it when there’s good news—is that we don’t have to wait long. She takes delivery of her brand-new Ford Edge tomorrow.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 


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