I bought a new car last night. Brand new, only 200 miles on the odometer, that new car smell, the whole deal. It's an adorable car, just what I wanted and needed, and I'm very excited - never thought I'd buy a new car. But here's the thing: with my old car, I never worried about it. I didn't care if it got (another) ding, I knew nobody would ever steal it, it's not the kind of car you'd break into. It worked well and caused me no anxiety.
The new car already has me anxious. I had to borrow a big chunk of money, for one thing. More money than I've ever borrowed in my life (since I've never owned a home). So there's the anxiety of making sure I can pay that back. In my current circumstances, that shouldn't be a problem, but we all know that circumstances can change.
Then there's the anxiety about something happening to it. Stay away parking lot door dingers! Don't get near me you damn seagulls! If you rear end me, I might have to cut you! No eating (or puking) in the back seat! Should I even bring coffee to work in my travel mug like I sometimes do? What if, what if, what if?
There is a freedom in owning things that aren't particularly valuable. It's like my old camera; I took it everywhere, I didn't worry about bumping it or losing it or it getting stolen. Now, I have a newer, fancier camera and it matters to me that it stay safe.
The key, like so much in life, is learning to let go. Meanwhile, vrooooooooom!
So ... you ARE going to show it to us, aren't you?
Posted by: Karen | 29 April 2009 at 01:24 PM
Of course! I just haven't had a chance to take a good picture of it yet.
Posted by: nina | 29 April 2009 at 01:35 PM
I've often thought I should sell a service, wherein I come by to people's new cars and do some minor stuff: a scratch here, a ding there, grind some pizza into the carpets, spill a little soda on the seat. I'd charge a nominal fee (plus travel expenses), and then...
...it'd be over, and the new-car owners would no longer have to be awake at night wondering when someone will hurt their baby.
There used to be an ad for some over-the-counter sleep remedy, in which a woman rolled over to find her husband's side of the bed empty. She looked around, and saw him sitting in a chair and staring out the window. "Come to bed, Ralph," she said, and he replied, "I can't, Marge. Someone might scratch our new car." "No one scratched our old car, Ralph," she countered.
Ralph turned and looked at Marge as though she were completely, hopelessly demented. "People don't scratch OLD cars, Marge." And he turned back to the window.
Posted by: Barry | 29 April 2009 at 02:45 PM
We spent a whole day fixing up our old Subaru to sell it last year - cleaning all the seats and carpets, washing the doors, everything. Then the next day we helped out some friends by babysitting their kids, and when we were taking them home, one of them puked chocolate milk all over the backseat.
Nobody's puked in the new car, though!
Posted by: kat | 30 April 2009 at 07:54 AM
Congratulations! Enjoy it all, including the long walks from the faraway parking spaces!
Posted by: cc | 01 May 2009 at 10:50 AM