I Hate Cars

My husband and I had a revelation the other night while putting down the highway in our '93 Ford Escort: Maybe God wants us to be Amish.

Think of it. Imagine the ease of driving. Sure, little kids could outrace you on their decked-out Huffy bikes (possibly with training wheels), but you'd never have to pay for gas, you'd never have to let your car run for ten minutes before driving it in cold weather because a horse is always "on," and Mr. Ed doesn't have to pass inspection once a year.

Less than two hours from now, I will be the proud owner of an extremely used new car. Again. Cars and toilet paper - we go through them at the same speed. A few years ago, a guy named Dave Ramsey (look him up) told us we needed to buy "beater" cars instead of making payments on new ones. Well, he didn't tell us this personally. It was in his workbook and I'm pretty sure he talked about it on his show. Either way, we could just sense he was speaking directly to us.

And that was OK with us because we were already buying them. We have owned one brand new car in our ten-year marriage and I totaled it less than a year into holy matrimony. Apparently, I went temporarily color blind at the very worst moment, sped through a red light, and a minivan slammed into me at 50 miles per hour. That was the last new car we had. That was 2001.

The beater car thing is great in theory. I don't like making payments on anything, and things like credit cards scare me. The idea is to buy a car that is used, that you can buy outright. The idea is to buy a used car that doesn't suck. But I'm here to tell you...there's no way you can really tell. You don't know what you're going to get. People lie. And even when they're honest, sometimes there is no way to know what kind of mood a car is going to be in once it lands in the care of new owners.

As one who has stood alongside many a roadside, kicking and yelling at a dead car, this truth haunts me. And tonight I'm going to go pay a nice chunk of money on something with less predictability than a southern Pennsylvania snowstorm. God help me. God help all of us.

Dear Toyota, this is your new mother speaking. Please live. OK? Just please LIVE. I promise to put oil in you every 3,000 miles if you promise not to die. You're running great right now. Don't pull one over on me in a day or a week. Don't make me kick you or throw things at you, because those who have gone before you can attest to the fact that I CAN and I WILL. So, just to reiterate, please live. Live or suffer harsh consequences in front of thousands of people on the highway.


Love,
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