Car Shopping
Sunday, August 26, 2007
For those of you who read the post "To Buy or Not to Buy," here's a little update:
After much thought and prayer about foregoing a second car for at least one more year, Rich and I decided that due to the deteriorating condition of our present car, we need to move forward with the option to buy. Having a second car will not only serve me and the kids while Rich is at work, but if "Big Red" (as the kids have affectionately named our Jeep) dies, then Rich will have back-up transportation.
I think whether one starts out with a little money, or a lot, car shopping is stressful! Saturday -- with about 1400-dollars of answered prayer in our pocket -- we set out to find a car lot in Crystal, MN. After calling on several cars in the Tribune and learning they had "just sold that morning" or passing on cars that were way out of our price range, we were following our first lead in two weeks that felt somewhat hopeful.
On the drive out, I was nervous. Prayerful. Please God, help us not to be impulsive with any purchase we might make. Please direct us to a car that down the line will not be a source of additional head and heartaches. Help us to see and hear you.
As we pulled up to the small 40-car lot, the blue mini-van came into view. Ugly. Boxy. Very little rust. But a possibility. As soon as we opened the door to check out the interior, though, I gagged. It stunk like a dead animal, the seats were torn in multiple places, and there were cigarette burns on the dash. Jennifer climbed into the back seat like it was a Lamborgini, "I love it!" she said with glee. "This is nice!"
"Nasty," I said. "Get out of there, Jen. It's dirty." Rich had to remind me that we were shooting for "beater" not "beautiful."
We checked out a few other cars at the back end of the lot. . . way back end. . .like we had to squeeze through a lot of dented cars to get to them. But the sales guy told us we were looking at cars that were completely inoperable.
So it wasn't long before we were lured to the cars up front, with more shine, polish, prestige. There was a gold-colored station wagon sitting in the middle of the lot that we kept circling, and circling.
"This would be real nice for you and the kids. . . REAL nice," Rich kept saying.
It was double the money we had in pocket. But, the option to finance was there. It's amazing to me that we even sat there and considered something outside of our price range, even if for only a few minutes. For both of us, the desire to own something "nice" was strong. Lord, what do you have for us?
Jennifer was still bopping around with glee, excited about every possibility. The eager-beaver sales guy was breathing down our necks. "What will it take to keep you here?" he asked.
With a final, firm statement, Rich sent him packing . "I already told you, we're not buying today, just looking." The guy hopped back into the store like he'd been stung by a bee. My spirit sank. Jennifer climbed back into our rusty old Jeep with tears in her eyes, snapping "Why do we have to drive cars anyway? They just pollute the earth." Rich was agitated.
It took some haggling on the way home to re-allign our expectations with reality. And it was decided: we'll definitely not visit any more car lots. "Beater" is the still the plan. Because "beater" is what we can afford.
But maybe there's a "nice" beater out there somewhere.
On the way home, puffy white clouds were sailing across the sky. Lawns from recent rains were greener than green. I breathed deeply, exhaling disappointment, and God seemed to whisper, "I have given you all this, my daughter. All the beauty of creation is yours."
After much thought and prayer about foregoing a second car for at least one more year, Rich and I decided that due to the deteriorating condition of our present car, we need to move forward with the option to buy. Having a second car will not only serve me and the kids while Rich is at work, but if "Big Red" (as the kids have affectionately named our Jeep) dies, then Rich will have back-up transportation.
I think whether one starts out with a little money, or a lot, car shopping is stressful! Saturday -- with about 1400-dollars of answered prayer in our pocket -- we set out to find a car lot in Crystal, MN. After calling on several cars in the Tribune and learning they had "just sold that morning" or passing on cars that were way out of our price range, we were following our first lead in two weeks that felt somewhat hopeful.
On the drive out, I was nervous. Prayerful. Please God, help us not to be impulsive with any purchase we might make. Please direct us to a car that down the line will not be a source of additional head and heartaches. Help us to see and hear you.
As we pulled up to the small 40-car lot, the blue mini-van came into view. Ugly. Boxy. Very little rust. But a possibility. As soon as we opened the door to check out the interior, though, I gagged. It stunk like a dead animal, the seats were torn in multiple places, and there were cigarette burns on the dash. Jennifer climbed into the back seat like it was a Lamborgini, "I love it!" she said with glee. "This is nice!"
"Nasty," I said. "Get out of there, Jen. It's dirty." Rich had to remind me that we were shooting for "beater" not "beautiful."
We checked out a few other cars at the back end of the lot. . . way back end. . .like we had to squeeze through a lot of dented cars to get to them. But the sales guy told us we were looking at cars that were completely inoperable.
So it wasn't long before we were lured to the cars up front, with more shine, polish, prestige. There was a gold-colored station wagon sitting in the middle of the lot that we kept circling, and circling.
"This would be real nice for you and the kids. . . REAL nice," Rich kept saying.
It was double the money we had in pocket. But, the option to finance was there. It's amazing to me that we even sat there and considered something outside of our price range, even if for only a few minutes. For both of us, the desire to own something "nice" was strong. Lord, what do you have for us?
Jennifer was still bopping around with glee, excited about every possibility. The eager-beaver sales guy was breathing down our necks. "What will it take to keep you here?" he asked.
With a final, firm statement, Rich sent him packing . "I already told you, we're not buying today, just looking." The guy hopped back into the store like he'd been stung by a bee. My spirit sank. Jennifer climbed back into our rusty old Jeep with tears in her eyes, snapping "Why do we have to drive cars anyway? They just pollute the earth." Rich was agitated.
It took some haggling on the way home to re-allign our expectations with reality. And it was decided: we'll definitely not visit any more car lots. "Beater" is the still the plan. Because "beater" is what we can afford.
But maybe there's a "nice" beater out there somewhere.
On the way home, puffy white clouds were sailing across the sky. Lawns from recent rains were greener than green. I breathed deeply, exhaling disappointment, and God seemed to whisper, "I have given you all this, my daughter. All the beauty of creation is yours."
Good words.