I was happy earlier this year when I paid off my car. There were 72 payments of hell before I could finally get the title in my hands. It made sense that the car started ending up struggling a brief month or two after that last check was pulled from my account. It was smaller things at first – new tires, an engine light here and there – moving into a timing chain that seems ready to snap at every turn. So, over the course of the last few months I have been working to try to raise the funds necessary to get a new whip. After the whole healthcare crisis begins to cool down, I think I’m going to go out to one of the big metropolitan places around me (e.g. the bustlin’ town of Shreveport, Louisiana) to sell my soul for something that can give myself and the daughter a bit more in the way of leg room than my tiny sedan offered.
As long-time readers of my magazine may know, I have been going through a number of changes with my family. After I purchase my new car, I’m definitely going to be invisible to individuals that would perhaps cause me strife if I still had the same car. Aside from number plate recognition, there’d be no way they could pick out my spanking-new vehicle if I was parked at work or at the local supermarket.
Aside from finding something that’s either new or lightly used with a bit more space, I think I’m going to get something with decent gas mileage. There’s always the desire to get a pick up or something to carry my various flea market and garage sale finds, but with how far geographically I am from major areas, fuel economy is something that I desperately need in my car.