Thursday, June 27, 2013

On the subject of cars, I am–much like my fuel gauge–largely rudderless, a compass twisting in the wind. It’s been roughly a month now of using my odometer to determine how much gas I have left, and I am mortified and proud in equal measure. It’s kind of badass to know I get about 350 miles per tank with my normal mix of local and highway transit. It’s like I’m navigating using the stars or something. But at the same time, y’know, it’s a little ghetto.

What is unequivocally not on the table is buying a new car. I can’t bear the heartache again of sensing an asset depreciating, the moment it rolls off the lot. There’s the psychic punch of seeing that first dent or scratch, too, wrought by some parking lot rat. I also cringe at the memory of standing in the dealership, green, fresh out of college, clumsily “negotiating.” Nowadays, I’m actually equipped to do so, but the prospect of dealing with car salesmen remains unsavory to the max.

Certified pre-owned or lease? That is the question. Make is up for grabs. Budget, I’ve got a ballpark. V4 over V6 for fuel efficiency’s sake. With all the talk surrounding hybrid technology, the contrarian within me almost wants a vehicle that actively pollutes to balance things out–like maybe it randomly ejects empty plastic bottles onto the road, or automatically coats smaller woodland creatures in spent engine oil. There are a few features I absolutely need: sedan, four doors, a smaller frame to allow me to weave at higher speeds. What I want most, though, is a HUD. Silly, right? That’s my secret shame, and it may have decided things for me.