New car

New car

    One car at a time is my limit.  I don't want to research, shop for, bargain for, finance, register, repair or maintain more than one car at a time.  I held to this boundary  even long ago in my mean- mother phase of life.  When Paul was sixteen and eager for wheels,  I told him to put the wish out to the world.  Sure enough, my mother's neighbor Mrs. Ozur offered to give her old Chevette to Paul instead of to the Salvation Army.  Paul gave it new brakes and made some minor repairs, and reimbursed me sometimes for his insurance premiums.  He made jokes about  his "'Vette" to his friends who were given fancy cars for their birthdays, but he took care of it and drove it safely.    I only  dealt with one car at a time.

It served us well

Signs of age

     In our life today, we have a Prius, which I researched, shopped for, financed, registered, and insured 7 years ago.  We also have a 1996 Mercury Mercoux that we inherited.  It has been time to put the Mercury out of its misery for several years now.
     We thought that a minivan might be useful for getting oxygen into and out of the back seat.   Later on, we might need to transport a scooter or a wheelchair. I brought home the Consumer Reports auto issue, got advice and recommendations from my car- loving son David, and began a mental dithering dance about choosing a replacement for the Mercury.  This went on for about a year.
   Fortunately, Judy has a different approach to acquiring cars than I do.  One Saturday, after a late breakfast at a nearby restaurant, Judy said, "Let's just look at a few vans."  We drove two Toyota Siennas that seemed much too big.  The young saleswoman, who hates selling and really want to be a mechanic in civilian life as she was in the Army, suggested a Prius V. We drove one, and  Judy said, "This would be fine." Nothing about the whole universe of possible cars, nothing about shopping or bargaining, nothing about the dimensions of oxygen concentrator or scooters, just "This would be fine."

Mission accomplished

    The next afternoon, Judy took good neighbor Robert with her for moral support, and they went back to the Toyota dealer.  Four hours later, they came home with our new red Prius V.  It really is fine.
     Nowadays, just as  we have a gaggle of geese stopping traffic when they cross our roads, and a murder of crows cawing in our woods, we have a smug of Priuses in our driveway.
    The first day that Judy drove to the coffee shop in her new car, she came home raving about how wonderful  it is to hear music while driving again. (The radio in the Mercury has been defunct for years.) "How did the oxygen fit?"  I asked.
"I forgot to take it," she said.
A new red car beats oxygen any day.