There comes a time in all our lives when we have to say goodbye to someone or something that we like. This happened to me a few years ago when one wintry morning my old car wouldn't start. Again. This was in the days when cars still had chokes, I'm not sure what they have now but I don't think that they have chokes.
Grabbing the snow brush and my Bic pen I clicked open the hood and peered inside. The choke was stuck again. Taking off the air filter I stuck the snow brush handle into one side of the choke thingy and the Bic in the other.
Climbing back into my freezing car I turned the
key and sure enough it roared into life.
"That does it," I swore to myself, "I'm going to get a new car."
My son was somewhat alarmed at the prospect of me going round the car lots on my own.
"Don't buy anything until I can go with you," he cautioned. "Just look around and if there is anything you like I'll go and see it with you."
Older kids always seem to think that their parents are dense. I thought the same thing about my folks once.
I decided to do the search scientifically. I would go to each car lot in alphabetical order.
It was a blustery day when I set out wrapped in a heavy jacket, scarf, boots, gloves and anything else I could find in an effort to stay warm. The salesman spotted me as soon as I stepped onto the lot.
"Good morning," he said in that hearty way that salespeople have. "What can I do for you today?"
It seemed obvious to me that I was here to buy a car but what did I know? He had probably been to one of those expensive marketing courses and been told how to recognize a customer. "I'd like to buy a car," I told him. I'd been to a few courses myself.
"Did you have anything particular in mind?" he asked.
"Yeah, something that actually starts at minus 35."
He chuckled and I felt that we were off to a good start.
"What kind of car?" he asked.
This was an important question. I didn't want him to think that I knew zip about cars. My voice was firm. "I want a blue one with a sort of pale bluey gray interior in that soft plushy upholstery."
I could tell he was impressed, he went bright red and suppressing a cough, he turned away from me. Regaining his voice, we got down to business.
"We have several blue ones of various types," he said leading the way to a particularly blue car.
"This one comes in four, six or eight cylinders," he began.
He must have thought I just got off the boat or something. Why would I want all those cylinders? I didn't even know what they were much less whether or not I wanted any. I decided to assert myself, "I want a small, economical car, I said. "One or two cylinders should do it." I told him trying to humour him without sounding patronizing. The effect of my words was startling. I told him that he really should think about going to see the doctor about that cough.
We sat in the car and it seemed quite comfortable. I glanced down. There were too many pedals on the floor. I only needed two and there were three in this car. No wonder cars are going up in price at such an alarming rate, I thought; the manufacturers were putting in extras that weren't needed.
The salesman was very patient. He explained the extra pedal to me as though I were a dim witted child, but I didn't mind too much. He was only trying to earn a living. I did think it a bit of a rip off though. Why would anyone want to mess with a clutch when you could buy a car that changed gears automatically?
He went on a bit about P.S. (power smart I thought smugly), automatic choke, cruise control, reclining seats, power brakes, and about a dozen other things the car could do.
I sat there in a daze wondering what happened to simplicity. All I wanted was a car to take me from A to Z. One that could wash itself too sounded good. Had anyone thought of that yet?
There was a small screen in the corner of the dash. "A TV in the car?" I spluttered. "Isn't that a bit dangerous? I don't think there should be any distractions when you are driving down the highway."
He was really coughing hard now and muttering something about schematics, whatever they are.
By this time I was becoming concerned about this man's colouring. He was going from red to purple and his cough was terrible. "I really think you should see a doctor," I said as I scrambled out of the car. "I'll come back when you are feeling better."
A couple of salespeople came over to help the guy out of the car.
"He needs antibiotics for that cough," I told them helpfully.
They nodded and staggered into the building with him.
I watched from the corner of my eye as I lifted the hood of my venerable old car. They were huddled in a group by the window staring at me, no doubt impressed by my expertise with the snow brush and Bic pen.
After talking things over with my son, we decided that he should look for a car on his own.
Something simple I told him, "just one cylinder and two pedals should do nicely. I don't care just as long as it is blue.
This story first appeared on page 6 in Plus magazine in The Prince George Citizen (April 3rd, 1993) and is republished here with permission.
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