>>stripped of natural charm

Jason’s car, and I mean no disrespect here, was a piece. It ran okay, minus a weird and perpetual click whenever a left turn was executed, and the body was fair. There was a dent in the front passenger side that had rusted (he bought it that way) and a crack in the windshield that developed over the last week and a half. I’m trying to be subjective, but I hated that car. It was 14 years old, and while Jason claimed that it still had a few more years left in it (he’s being quite generous, but then I don’t know a whole lot about the mechanics of a car so he could have been right), I was not willing to risk him driving down the road and leaving his transmission at a stop light. Also, and I know that this is kind of a little thing, but his passenger window did not roll down. That’s typically fine for normal, non-smoking people, but it was not fine for me. Because I kind of need that window to keep up my habit, and no one likes a quitter, so we need to get a new car so I can smoke in peace.

Also it was loud. Not just the outside clickiness, but inside the car was had the equivalent decibel level of a Tool concert. Plus maybe Stomp. And a Nascar track. I questioned his need to turn it up to eleven whenever he listened to the radio until I realized that one HAD to turn it up loudly if one wished to hear anything over the woosh of passing trucks and/or Geo Metros. Talking inside the moving car was out of the question. I went hoarse more times than I care to count.

There was also a concern about our future, mostly the safety of my unborn children (and yet-to-be-conceived, let’s just clear that up right now). I wanted something that was safe and child-friendly before we had kids. Who wants to buy a car when they’ve already got kids, or worse, are seven months pregnant? Exactly. Let’s get a new car before I get all pregnant lady crazy and spend our life savings on diapers.

On Monday Jason made the offhand comment about maybe wanting a new car. That was all the comment I needed. I spend the rest of the afternoon researching cars and spent quite a bit of time on edmunds.com. On Tuesday I called the employee pricing line (I work at a car dealership, after all) and gave them my specifics.
“What kind of car are you looking for?”
“Um, something foreign.”
“Okay. Any particular make?”
“A Honda or a Volkswagen.”
“Price range?”
“Under $11,000.”
“Does color matter?”
“No. And the mileage isn’t a real determining factor either. My husband had a ‘91 Honda and put over 200,000 on the original engine. They’re good cars that don’t require a lot of maintenance. He had a Jeep once and hated it.”
“What about body style?”
“He prefers something a little sportier. Apparently that affects your manhood.”
“It ABSOLUTELY affects the manhood. I understand what he means.”

On Tuesday afternoon, two hours after I made the call, we got a link to a dealership in Roseburg that had a car that met all of our specifications. I scheduled an appointment for Saturday.

Jason’s attitude throughout this whole ordeal was very hard to gauge. One minute he would be very excited, and the next very morose and unsure. I chalked it up to sadness over leaving his other car behind. Trading it in for a younger model. Such guilt. And he’s not even Catholic.

It was also a very big step for us. Buying a car together is a bigger deal than buying a coffee table (even though the coffee table took longer to purchase because I cannot make up my mind). We had financing to consider: would I try to purchase it alone? Would his school loans make our rate sky rocket if we tried to buy it together? In the end we discovered that it required both of us to purchase the car. My good credit gave us a good rate, and adding in his income lowered our debt/income ratio. Fifty-fifty split. It was quite romantic, all things considered. We were golden.

We were both trying not to get our hopes up when we walked into dealership except I walk around with high apple pie-in-the-sky hopes pretty much all the time. He is definitely the more level-headed of the two of us, which can really harsh a buzz sometimes, especially upon first viewing of Vehicle In Question because oh my gosh it’s so shiny and the doors don’t stick how did we live without it. And he’s all “Eh, look at the stripe down the side of the car. You see? It’s kind of peeling.” Those are the things he looks at. He marvels at the peelingness of a decal.

When we discovered that we were indeed approved for a loan (substantially less than our $11,000 budget), I saw Jason smile about the car for the first time since we stepped foot on the lot. He kind squealed a little bit: “We’re getting a car!” Indeed we were. He was also quick to correct me any time I said it was his car. We bought it together, he said. It’s half yours.

We are now the proud owners of a dark grey 2004 Honda Accord. The windows roll down and everything. And you better believe that when we were driving that puppy home, I smoked in the car. Just my half, though. I made sure of it.