What's a girl to do?

I sat in the waiting room of the service station wondering what, exactly, was taking so long with my car. I had been waiting for over and hour and a half and all I asked for was an oil change. Did an oil change really take that long?

When the service representative finally called me over to tell me that my car was all set, she broke the bad news. The mechanic had performed the oil change I requested as well as a tire rotation, but while conducting an overall inspection of my 4-year-old SUV, found that I had a few “problem areas” that needed to be addressed — $1,600 worth of problems, in fact. The good news was, at least half of the items listed on the estimate sheet the service representative handed me were covered under my extended warranty. The bad news was that half of the items listed on the estimate sheet would need to come out of my pocket. 

I smiled and nodded politely as she outlined my options, and I tried in vain to work out the math in my head without outwardly showing her that she was giving me a migraine. 

By the time I scheduled a follow-up appointment to fix those problems, she handed over my keys and I made my way back to my car. I decided I had one of two options: I could trade it in and buy the shiny, new SUV I’d had my eye on for the last few months, or I could suck it up and fork over the money for the repairs. Given that the former option was about a likely as my getting hired as a television news anchor for a national news organization, I decided to plan on the latter. 

This was exactly the reason why I went out and purchased a new car four years ago: I didn’t want to have to worry about exorbitant repair bills. And while it seemed like a good idea at the time to pay up front for a problem-free new vehicle and accompanying warranty (I thought ahead and bought the best warranty the dealership had to offer, which is, admittedly, coming in handy now), the fact that I’m now faced with huge “routine” maintenance/repair bills with only 57,000 miles under my (serpentine) belt is slightly… irksome. If not for my excellent warranty, I would have been in trouble; even with my warranty, I’m struggling.

When I called my dad to lament my misfortune, he informed me that I am just one of many car owners who feel this way during this economic climate. Evidently, he was right. 

A study recently released by AAA indicates that at least one quarter of American drivers neglect car repairs or maintenance due to the economy. One in four people could not afford to pay for a vehicle repair of $2,000 if faced with one today, and one in eight would be unable to pay for a $1,000 repair, the study indicated. 

Well then, at least I’m in good company. 

Despite the financial burden, AAA encourages drivers to keep their vehicles up-to-date on routine maintenance in order to prevent more expensive problems in the future, but therein lies the rub. Do you come up with the money now in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, or do you tempt fate and hold off on spending money you don’t have in the hopes of winning the lottery? And if you win the lottery, do you pay for repairs or do you buy a new car outright? 

I’d go for the latter, but that’s just me. A girl can dream, can’t she?

Impulse buy

I form emotional attachments to everything. You name it and I’m probably head over heels about it. The most obvious example of this outrageous claim is probably my car, “Luna.” Yes, I named her. And yes, I refer to Luna as a she.

Last week, the last week of the month during which I was supposed to get Luna inspected, I was forced to break down and bring her to the garage. After digging through my glove box forever (someone tell me why I feel the need to save the menu for a restaurant located two hours away, in my glove box, no less?), I managed to find the registration which I promptly handed over to the overly talkative (read: not very verbose) mechanic who got behind the wheel and drove my baby away. 

I live in fear of the motor vehicle inspection process, mostly because my car is still relatively new and if it fails inspection, there’s going to be a very expensive reason why. I don’t want to have to call home begging for money (I’m supposed to be an adult, after all), and let’s face it, I can’t afford the cost of fixing most of what could possibly go wrong with a nice car like mine. 

My last car, “Little Blue” – which was, yes you guessed it, little and blue! – was a Geo Prizm that was the butt of most of my friends’ jokes. But Little Blue was paid off and during a time when gas was pushing $5 per gallon, was also relatively economical, so I stuck it out. 

In 2007, during an impromptu visit back home, I was seized with a burning desire to swing by the car dealership I spent the majority of my high school and college careers working for. As I pulled onto the lot, I noticed a beautiful, shiny black Ford SUV in the show room. 

“Buy me,” it whispered to me as I passed it on my way to the sales manager’s office. 

“Hey, can I take that on a test drive?” I asked Mr. Manager, pointing my thumb at Black Beauty. He handed over the keys and a dealer plate (one of the perks of working for a dealer for so long is they trust you with their new vehicles), and I was off on a joy ride. Alone. When I returned, I asked how much money he could cut off the MSRP for me. 

“You really want it?” he asked. 

I gave him the doe-eyed Bambi face, batted my lashes and said “absolutely.” He took the figures he needed to work out a payment plan and I continued ogling the fine craftsmanship before me. 

Within minutes, Mr. Manager came back to give me the bad news: “I can’t get you in this on your budget,” he said as my face fell. Then, the good news: “I can, however, get you in this one.” He indicated another new, slightly smaller silver SUV. I was sold.

Two days later, I arrived, check in hand, to turn over the keys to Little Blue and drive off in my very first brand new car. As I signed the title to the Geo over, my friend and mechanic Joey walked up to me. 

“Give me the keys to Little Blue,” he said. (Yes, even the mechanics knew I named my car.) I gave him a quizzical look, did what he said, and went back to signing my life away. When they finally handed me the keys to my new car and walked me outside, I noticed Little Blue was not where I parked him. 

“I moved it around back,” Joey said, reading my mind. “I knew if you drove off in your new car, looking at your old car in the rearview mirror, you’d probably cry and it would tarnish that whole new-car-buying experience.” 

He knew me so well. 

Last week, three years after I made what I still consider to be the biggest impulse buy ever, I stood outside the garage watching the mechanic do his rounds. As I silently willed Luna to pass, I felt a sense of nostalgia.

“You’re all set,” the mechanic said when he finished. 

“You mean she passed?” I nearly squealed. 

“Um, yes, you passed.”

I let out a sigh of relief as I forked over the inspection fee, got behind the wheel and headed back home. 

I can’t help but love my car. It’s been in my life for longer than a portion of my friends and my boyfriend combined. It’s the longest relationship I’ve had to date, and I’ve committed myself to it for at least another four years. In that respect, I suppose my attachment is more financial than emotional; but they’re still feelings, right?

Column reprinted with permission from The Journal Register newspaper.