I have had some great ideas! Well, actually two great ideas in my thirty-eight years of life. I have had numerous not so good ideas (too numerous to mention here). One of the not so good ideas, in an effort to save money, was to sell my 2002 Volvo and buy an older car for one thousand dollars. I was amazed at how many people wanted to possess my academic Volvo. It wasn’t a really hot car or anything. It was typical of what a teacher or a mom with a few kids who lived in a big mansion over in Seattle’s Magnolia neighborhood would drive[N1] . Anyway, I posted an ad on Craigslist.com (a great site to sell, buy and trade items and services and a host of other activities, which may be illegal in some states), There were many inquiries in response to my ad. I thought, “Hmm.. This is going to be a lot easier than I thought.” I was leasing the car, so there was a whole string of steps you had to do to get out of the lease and sell the car, which I embraced with determination to do exactly as prescribed by Volvo Finance of North America.
Finally, after answering a million emails (really the figure was more in the neighborhood of about nine emails total) and letting at least a half-dozen people take the groovy Volvo for test drives, and one fraudulent check later, I had a real buyer. This cool couple from Seattle snapped up the Volvo and I was out of car debt and free to buy a one thousand dollar ride.
The minute I pulled into the driveway of this North Seattle home I knew that the baby blue 1987 Cadillac Seville had to be mine. I wanted it, no matter the cost. This car was loaded with all the bells and whistles a 1987 Cadillac could afford. After all, at Cadillac, every detail matters. This was clear with the fourteen karat gold plated keys for the car. I already imagined myself in line at the grocery store displaying my gold keys on the tiny counter they provide you to write a check. Surely this would let the cashier know that I was a SOMEBODY! I had gold keys. There was no need to know that they were gold plated. They looked like solid gold. I envisioned myself waving at the passersby when I drove to my school each morning. I thought people would yield to the Cadillac. I bought that car for exactly $1,300.
Well, this car turned out to be the worst financial decision I had ever made. It was late in the fall of 2005 at the time. The car had really already given its best. It had 93,000 miles on it, which was low for a car of its years. I loved how the engine roared when I started it. Come to find out, that roar was the water pump that was about to fall out of the bottom of the engine compartment, which it did a few weeks later as I drove to school. $487 later I was back in business in my groovy Cadillac. What is $487 when you are looking cool in a Cadillac? I shrugged it off as chance that this car came with a slight mechanical problem.
I made an appointment at the Cadillac dealership to have Blue looked over head to toe to see what she might be in need of and if she was of sound mind and body. It was Halloween day, I remember because I was in my Halloween costume at school putting in a call to the dealership to find out the good news. I envisioned in my head that the dealership service center would say, “This is one gem of a car. It is in tip-top shape. You are fortunate to have found such a bargain.” They didn’t. Instead the call lasted about twelve minutes. I did no talking. The service center guy rattled off a list of things the car needed. Hoses were cracked, the radiator leaked, the windshield wiper motor was funky, and the antenna didn’t go up or down and needed a new motor. The air conditioning didn’t blow cold air. Worst of all, the car leaked oil, about one quart every five days. All of this to the tune of $5,872.85. I choked when he said it. No longer did I think the Cadillac was cool and elegant. I was pissed at that car for not holding itself together better. Of course, I wasn’t in any position to justify spending practically six thousand dollars on a car that was nearly twenty years old. So, I went and picked it up after school that night. I was irritated the minute one of the guys drove it around from the back. The engine was roaring, not as loud as before the water pump fell out, but roaring much louder than I remembered.
A few days later the car wouldn’t start. I think I had been in possession of the car for about three weeks by this time. Lo and behold it needed some new computer. Just $414 this time. I started calculating. I had spent, in three weeks, more than I would have spent on three car payments if I had kept the Volvo.
From then on I tried to live a holy and righteous life so that God would keep that car running. I must have failed miserably because it kept making funny noises and minor breakdowns cropped up during the next two months. All of this was put aside on the morning of January 8th, 2006. I was racing toward school at about 8:00 in the morning. I think it was a Tuesday. It seemed like a Tuesday. I was sailing down Island Crest Way on Mercer Island. I saw a Volvo SUV at a stop sign at the corner of 47th Street. So I was sailing north on Island Crest Way and couldn’t help but notice that the driver of this Volvo SUV decided to come on out and cross my lane of traffic two seconds before I reached the intersection. For one brief moment, maybe two, I remember thinking, “This might be it.” Then I thought, “I am gonna slam into that Volvo SUV.” I did. Smoke poured from the front of the Cadillac. The engine compartment was smashed. The hood was bent up so far that I couldn’t see out the windshield. I had survived the impact. That was good, I think. I didn’t hear anything, though. That was what made me think I might be in Heaven already, or maybe I was waiting in line to check into Hell. I didn’t hear the impact at all. My heart was racing and I realized that I had to get out of that car in case it blew up or, on a more humane level, to make sure that the person driving that Volvo SUV was still alive. I was scared. I realized I was alive and I thought there was no way anyone could have been uninjured from the speed and rate of impact. I didn’t have a chance to brake and slammed into that Volvo SUV at full speed.
By the time I got the door open, hopped out and realized that I hadn’t turned the car off - it didn’t matter, the engine had quit running anyway - a lady sprung around the passenger side of the Volvo SUV and said, “I am so sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“Are you OK?”
“Yes, Yes, Fine. I am so sorry.”
Instantly, I was relieved. I didn’t want to have anything like hurting someone or worse yet, killing them in an accident hanging on my conscience for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy another vacation if this woman had been injured, lost an arm or leg or something like that. I was relieved, not just because I could vacation without guilt in the future, but that we both were OK.
I looked back at what was left of my car. A rush of peace waved over me. That rattle trap Cadillac wasn’t going to be driven home. I was sure of that. There was no motor left. Well, the motor was all there, but it was all smashed together, kind of like it had been stomped on by the Jolly Green Giant. Instantly I knew this was my ticket out of being a Cadillac owner. I tried to remain calm and not let my excitement show to the woman who was visibly shaken and embarrassed as all of her neighbors drove by on their way to work. I stood in the middle of the road and looked at my car and watched traffic come to a halt as we waited for the police department to dispatch an officer. The weather was chilly. I could see my breath as a slight mist rained down on Mercer Island. It was an awkward situation. I wanted to make small talk with the Volvo driver, but I didn’t know what to talk about. I kept telling her not to be worried and that I wasn’t mad at her. I didn’t care about the car. That was no lie. I didn’t care about that car and was already planning in my mind what kind of a new car I could get. I liked the new Jetta and I wouldn’t have minded another Volvo either, but I needed to focus first on the situation at hand.
They loaded that Cadillac on a flat bed and I never had to see it again. What did happen amazed me. I didn’t know how all of this worked as I hadn’t been in a major wreck before. Insurance companies give you money for what they call “pain and suffering”. Translated into common man language, this would be “hush money”.” I collected a few thousand dollars for the value of the car and several more thousand dollars of hush money. I like how that worked.
Early that afternoon a big basket of flowers arrived from the driver of the Volvo SUV. It had a card expressing sorrow for the accident and it mentioned she was glad that neither of us was hurt. It was a nice gesture. I don’t care much for flowers, but I did have to ponder a minute and realize I was lucky to slam into a woman who was honest and admitted that she was at fault. I appreciated that while I stared at my FTD “Please don’t sue me bouquet.”
That day at school the kids were all jazzed up when I told them I had crashed my car on the way to school. It always amazed me how stunned they were when real life incidents happened to me, their teacher, out in the real world. One of the kids in my class started questioning the other kids as to what kind of car I should get to replace the smashed up Cadillac. This was not only entertaining; I figured these kids knew far more than I did. They all came from affluent homes. There were two suggestions for Hummer H3’s, several votes for a BMW and a few mini van recommendations. I settled for a 1990 Pontiac Bonneville SE. I spent $1,000 on that car. It lasted two months.
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