Last week I got a new car. Well, a used car that’s new to me. I took my old car, a 2002 Honda CRV, in to get new tires, a maintenance update it had needed for over a year. The new tires looked great, but the inspection showed that the other repairs I’d been putting off had multiplied due to my neglect. Now the much-needed repairs cost more than the car was worth.
It’s not great timing. My job(s) took a big hit with COVID-19. As I’ve said before, I simplified my life a LOT by leaving California almost three years ago. Life became very different in a hurry. Material possessions, finances, and egos got a lot smaller.
We all think we’re hot stuff until a major lie change (or pandemic) knocks us down a few humble notches to show us who we really are and how we could be better with what we have.
Last week, as I looked at the quote for car repairs, I thought to myself, “It’s not like you to let things go like this.” And it’s true.
I thought of the cars I’d owned over the years. I’m not the type to neglect my vehicles like that.
My very first car was a 1996 Toyota Tacoma, also known as “Larry” because my family has a habit of naming cars. I saved a lot of babysitting and lifeguarding money to buy Larry, and I appreciated my first car more because of how long it took to save for it. I learned to drive a stick in Larry, and drove him up until I left for the Secret Service academy. I didn’t let him get too dirty. Dad made sure the oil changes were regular. I never (NEVER) let anyone else drive him. I was weird about that.
After Larry came “Bob”, a 2007 Jeep Wrangler (also stick shift), and my first car payment. Yuck. Bob was a “cool kid” car, sporty, adventurous, and shiny. I washed and waxed Bob regularly. He was a good one.
But sometimes when households merge (aka marriage) and car payments and other debts add up, it becomes necessary to reevaluate what matters and what is actually needed. Unfortunately, Bob didn’t make the budget cuts, and he got traded in. I had planned on getting a VW Jetta because the new models that year were affordable. It wasn’t my dream car, but it was practical for the price and function.
However, once I got to the dealer, I saw “Black Beauty,” a 2006 Volvo S40 AWD T5 (ahem, also stick shift). And she was beautiful, all tricked out with leather, spoilers, sunroofs, and turbo speed. She wasn’t a new car. In fact, she’d just been traded in for a VW SUV, and there were gummy bears all over the backseat. The dealer hadn’t cleaned her out yet.
But I wanted her, and she became mine. Of all the cars I’ve owned, Black Beauty is by far my favorite. She was waxed and garaged and taken care of. She may not have cost nearly as much as the Wrangler, but she was treated as though she did.
A couple years later, “Frosty” joined the household. Frosty was a white Nissan Leaf, all electric and economical, but only purchased for a tax break and a cheap way to travel to and from Nancy Reagan’s house when I transferred to her protection detail. I could get to and from her house on one charge (barely). I usually left for work a little early to charge for a few minutes at the Gelson’s Market on Lauren Canyon Blvd. just in case.
Frosty was sold to CarMax at a loss when I left the Secret Service. Black Beauty followed me from Glendora to Los Angeles until I decided to move to Iowa. Black Beauty wasn’t meant for the snow, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting rust out in the Midwest.
Maybe it was because I’d already experienced so much loss leading up to the move, but watching Black Beauty drive away with another owner, her meticulous service records organized into a neat file in the passenger seat, stung me in the heart. I missed her before she rounded the corner and was gone forever.
Everything else I owned fit into one big box that got shipped and the rental car that took me to Iowa. Within a few days of arriving, I bought the CRV. It wasn’t the CRV’s fault. No car could be Black Beauty. This one had big shoes to fill, and it couldn’t fill them. CRV gave me 4-wheel drive and got me through the snow. That much I appreciated. But it wasn’t a stick shift, and I probably secretly resented it for being so functional when Black Beauty was so fun.
I neglected CRV. I think I technically named it “Raphael” or “Rogelio” from the show Jane the Virgin, but I never called CRV by the name. CRV was often dirty. I think I waxed it once. CRV needed a lot of random and unexpected repairs over the three years I had it. I found CRV to be annoying because of that. But the car wasn’t new and had over 100,000 miles on it. What did I expect?
Cars need maintenance just like people. Routine and regular maintenance keep things turning smoothly. Neglect catches up to you, especially when you ignore the mechanic’s warnings about needed repairs. “They can wait until I have the money,” I’d think.
Not this time.
I debated ignoring the warnings again, thinking I’d just drive CRV until it died. It wasn’t worth as much as the repairs at that point. The repairs weren’t a safety issue, so that’s how I justified delaying them in the first place.
My boyfriend had the idea to drive through the local dealerships late Sunday night. Everyone is having to get creative with activities these days since everything is closed due to COVID. I was excited to get out of the house for a random activity.
We drove through the lots, hopping out now and then to check price tags and look inside. It was fun. I’d never just driven through a dealership after hours to browse cars. We weren’t the only couples out there doing the same thing, either. How fun!
I’ll admit it, though. I was secretly hoping to spot another Black Beauty. No such luck.
However, tucked in the back of one of the lots was a Jeep SUV. We stopped to take a look inside. The windshield was broken, but a lot of the cars had damage due to a bad hail storm a couple weeks ago. But other than that, it looked nice. It was a few years old but had below-average miles. It was practical. The price was okay, and, best of all, it was a stick shift.
“I like this one,” I remember saying.
The next day I reached out to the dealership about the car. Long story short, a couple days later, CRV got traded in, and after a lot of back and forth about pricing, I drove away in “Duke,” my new-to-me car.
This morning, I was making a to-do list for the week. Clean bathroom. Clean floors. Mow the lawn. Plant the geraniums. Pay Bills. Wash comforter.
And lastly, wax Duke.
Last week taught me something. I had not taken care of CRV, and it cost me in the end. I wasn’t really saving money by neglecting it. I was just adding to the cost by failing at routine maintenance.
It’s not like me not to care, especially with cars. Growing up, my dad was meticulous about maintaining vehicles. In reality, my parents are very good at taking care of their possessions, in general. New or used, they take care of what they have. I thought I’d inherited that trait from them. I was taught to appreciate what you have because others might not be as fortunate. My uncle Jim once told me, “If I ever am in the market for a used car, your dad is the only person I’d buy it from because I know he always treated it as if it were a brand new luxury car.”
If you don’t take care of it now, you’ll pay for it later. I actually heard a doctor say something similar about health once. I wish I could remember the exact context, but I believe it was about diet and exercise. He was talking about how people complain healthy foods and gym memberships are so expensive. He was essentially saying that you’ll pay for your health one way or another. You can pay for it by making sure your diet and exercise habits are good now or later in a hospital with avoidable health problems caused by a poor lifestyle. Something to that effect.
COVID sucks, and, without getting into any of my personal opinions about how everything is being handled, I appreciate what it’s teaching me today. It’s sad to hear that depression, suicide, domestic violence, child molestation, and rapes are on the rise since stay-at-home orders and social distancing became the new norm. It’s sad that toilet paper suddenly became scarce. It’s sad that a hug between friends at the grocery story is frowned upon. It’s sad that I can smile as I pass someone on a walk, but I don’t know if they smiled back because masks are the new fashion accessory.
Idleness doesn’t usually breed anything good. Idleness is trouble. As someone who deals with depression, I’ve found myself struggling from time to time during the last month. It’s easy to focus on the hardships when a pandemic brings them to the forefront of daily life. I have to get in my own face, sometimes. Give myself some tough love.
COVID is teaching me to appreciate what I have, and I am so blessed. I’ve been able to work on the house, a house I haven’t appreciated the way I should because of all the problems that have arisen in fixing it up. I’ve been more intentional about calling and texting friends. I’ve been writing more. I’ve deepened relationships. I haven’t been spending as much money because quality time (even if it’s via Zoom or Skype) doesn’t have to be expensive.
It’s dangerous to not care. I had the luxury (yes, luxury) of being able to trade in CRV when my lack of caring caught up with me. Is it weird that I feel guilty about it? It’s stupid to want to apologize to a car, I know. But I could have done better, and I know it.
There are a lot of things in life that we can’t trade in for an updated model, and those things aren’t material. I can’t trade in myself when I don’t like who I am sometimes, so I need to take care of myself rather than neglect the attributes I need to work on or adjust. COVID has given me some time to address those things, and I appreciate that even though the circumstances are less than ideal.
It’s not too late to change attitudes and behaviors. I’ve been given a second chance with “Duke” and car care. As I wait for the wax to dry so I can make him shine, I’m appreciating the non-material things in my life and reflecting on how I can better maintain them going forward.