Life In A Nutshell: A New Toyota Rav 4

My buddy just bought a new car. A Toyota Corolla to be exact and he picks it up this coming Tuesday. Like most people that get new cars, he is pretty excited about the whole thing. He tries to look cool and calm on the outside, but it’s a new car! I get to ride in it on Wednesday and I am looking forward to that new car smell. You can buy “New car smell” at Canadian tire, but it isn't the same getting into an old shitbox and smelling new car.

He (when I say “he” I mean Ken and his wife Patricia of course) had it narrowed down to three vehicles, the Toyota, a Mazda and some other car whose name escapes right now. I don’t know cars; I just know colours of cars. The Toyota is to be silver and it won out partly because there was more it offered that they liked, and they have been driving a Corolla for the past twelve years. Just the fact that the last one ran well for so long is a good enough reason to buy Toyota. Another reason is that the Mazda only offered a choice of black or black for an interior colour. It must be designed by and for Goths.

I don’t ask price when someone buys something, because more than likely the cost is far more than it is worth in my mind. I think Ken said that this is just the third new car he has ever bought. I have only bought one new car and yes, it feels pretty good when you drive it off of the lot. I envy Ken for that feeling on Tuesday. I don’t envy car payments or an empty bank account, but they should have ten or so years of worry free driving ahead of them, assuming they keep taking the car in for its regular service.

I can remember when my mom and dad would buy a new car. It seemed that they would buy a new one every few years as opposed to every decade. I am sure there are folks that get new vehicles every couple of years now, but I suspect they have a larger disposable income than I do. Either that or they have a much larger debt load than I have. When we looked for a new car a few years ago, we only had about five paint choices and three interior choices. Mom and dad would bring home booklets of paint and fabric options and would agonize for days over which would be the best combination. They never did ask my opinion as I recall, but I suppose that was because somewhere deep down they realized I would wreck the car one snowy night at the corner of Orlando Blvd. and Marchington Circle. I was only going about ten MPH…really!

Ken will keep the car super clean and there is a very good chance he might put plastic down whenever I am to ride in it. That’s probably a good thing. I know he will be real close to “man” tears when the first scratch and dent appears magically on one of the door panels. I’ll say something like “You knew it was going to happen sooner or later, it’s just unfortunate it happened the first week you had the car.” The first dent is kind of like ripping a band aid off; better if it is done quickly and without emotion. Maybe I should do him a favour and sneak over in the middle of the night next week and key the passenger side door. He’d thank me for it…eventually.