April 16, 2012
I am not a car guy. Get me something that’ll carry 8,000 bags of Senkos, a jack for my boat trailer and a cooler full of sandwiches and I’m happy. My wife, on the other hand, likes gadgets, gizmos and big shiny objects, particularly vehicles.
The irony of this split is that in the nine years I’ve known her, I have gone through three boats and four tow vehicles (a Tahoe, then a Suburban, then an Avalanche, now back to a Suburban for the foreseeable future), while she has plodded along with the same daily driver. I often remark that I married her for that vehicle, an Oldsmobile Bravada that’s capable of pulling the Bass Cat should my Suburban need medical attention – but you know your car is old when the brand (Olds) doesn’t even exist anymore.
Ever since we’ve met, she’s told me of her desire to own an upscale convertible, but in 40+ years of life she never acted on it. Just as I’m not really a car guy, I’m definitely not a convertible guy. They’re noisy, prone to leakage and mechanical mishaps, and to be totally honest if I want the wind in my hair and the chance of a bird crapping on me, I’ll take a ride in my boat. Still, I can’t deny her that dream, so a couple of weeks ago we started the shopping process. While a Beemer had always been number one on the want list, after driving both we agreed that the Audi better fit our needs, so then the haggling began in earnest. I am comfortable doing that on the Chevy lot, but this was a whole new ballgame and exercising my full complement of OCD powers I stayed up late reading online forums and buying guides to get my arms around the process.
We found one in Pennsylvania that met her parameters, but when it arrived at our dealer in Virginia the paint was severely damaged. Fortunately, they found another that was reasonable close, just a few more options, and made us essentially the same deal. When I got home from the river on Saturday it was parked in the driveway, waiting to be driven.
On the one hand, it’s a tremendous luxury, one that won’t help us catch any more fish. On the other hand, the floating toy in the garage cost just about the same and I can’t drive it to work, nor can she take it to the store to get the ingredients to make me some nachos. I’d say we’re about even. My turn next.