It's just so damned cute.
On top of that, it runs wonderfully well, no worries about an imminent breakdown riding constant passenger with me. That's such a lovely feeling.
My just past car was a nice little silver Saturn. It was the first new car I ever bought and will probably be the last. I loved the Saturn brand. Their customer service was incredible, but it was their sales pitch that hooked me. I walked in to buy a car and, unlike other places I'd been, there was a single price. I asked how much the car was and the fellow told me, flat out. He didn't ask me how much I wanted to spend. (One Toyota salesman got me to tell him that I could afford no more than $300 a month in car payments and began to hard sell me towards a Camry that would have cost $550 a month.) He didn't have to go check with his manager (once, twice, or three times) to come up with multiple deals. When I said I wanted to look at their least expensive model, the Ion, he asked if I minded him running my credit so he could see if he could offer me the 0% financing that was available on the next car up, the SL1. I drove off the lot with a note of $257 a month, in an SL1 with no added frills which cost me, due to the 0% financing, $3000 less in total than the Ion would have. I was quite happy with the deal and the car.
I loved that car and that dealership. I was so annoyed when it shut down.
I drove that Saturn for twelve years and it gave me very little trouble. Of course, I didn't demand a lot of it. In twelve years I only put 66,000 miles on it. It wasn't until last year that it had its first major problem. It started to run rough, so I took it in to be looked at. The mechanic told me that it had problems with its intake manifold (whatever that is) and that it was running on only three of its four pistons. I thought that sounded like big dollars to repair and I was right. The estimate was near a thousand dollars on a car worth just about two thousand (if in good repair).
So I asked the question that made the mechanic scratch his head. If the car continues to run on three pistons is that going to make the engine worse than it is now? Uh, no, not worse, he said, you'll just get cruddy gas mileage and run rough like you're doing.
So it wasn't a hard decision. I couldn't justify putting a thousand dollars into a car that old and I couldn't sell it to anyone else in that shape. So I just went ahead and drove the car for a year, running rough. I didn't take it out of town and rarely on the highway because I didn't have any confidence in its reliability, but for running around the near area, it ran good enough. It helps that I only live a mile and a half from work. I figured I'd just run it until it couldn't run anymore. It wasn't a bad plan. It got me through a year without major repair or replacement expense.
Hey, I'd like to live a perfect life where I deal with everything the way and the when that it's supposed to be dealt with. Instead, I'm pretty much used to a make-do kind of life where an expense delayed is tomorrow's problem until tomorrow hits.
So how did I end up going from the little silver Saturn to the little gold Prius you may wonder. It boils down to the difference between the way I think and my father thinks. As I said, I was willing to drive the old car, rough running on the three cylinders, until it couldn't run anymore. My father was appalled. Apparrently that sort of mechanical abuse is against some male code of honour. When he found out what I was doing, he had a fit. I explained to him that the car still ran, it still got me back and forth to work and that was really all I needed. I'm a low mileage person and who knows how long I could nurse the Saturn along. Dad said I needed to get another car. I said I didn't need another car and certainly didn't want to put out major money when the Saturn was still rolling. Dad's counter was to say he'd buy me a car which I out and out refused. I'm an independent adult here, at least that's what I'm working hard at trying to be. Self-respecting adult-type people do not accept vehicles from their parents.
Never underestimate a determined octogenarian. Dad decided I needed another car and he was bound and determined I would have one, despite my own personal misplaced morality when it comes to independence and my offensive feminine blasphemy when it comes to mechanical maintenance.
Without further consultation with me, my father started shopping for a good used car. Baby needed new wheels and Papa Bear hit the internet hunting. The original plan, I am told, was to find me an older Prius in good repair because Dad's had such good luck with his own.
I've always admired my Dad's little gold Prius. It's just a cool car. The whole hybrid electric/gas engine thing makes sense. Whenever Dad and I went anywhere together I would always get him to let me drive because I thought it was so much fun. I'm actually a pretty good hybrid driver. There's a knack to getting the best mileage, in tricking the engine into running on electric as much as possible. The Prius keeps a running display of your current mileage and, to both our amusements, we could see that every time I drove his car I upped his mileage.
So Dad found a 2006 blue Prius with 112K miles at a dealership in Mississippi. A phone call later, he and Nathe went on a road trip. Inspection revealed the car to be in excellent shape, at a reasonable price, and equipped with absolutely every accessory and upgrade available. So Dad bought it and he and Nathe hit the road home, Nathe in Dad's gold Prius and Dad in the snazzy new (to him) blue Prius. All the way home Dad played with buttons and explored features and generally settled his happy comfy butt into the cushy leather seat.
By the time Dad and Nathe arrived at my house, completely unexpected by me, Dad had made a really odd decision. Not only was he surprising me with a Prius, he was giving me the newer of the two cars, his gold 2010 that he'd bought new, the car with the lower mileage and higher value. Driving the blue Prius home he decided he was ready for a change and that between the two Prius's (Pri-i?), he just liked the blue one with all the bells and whistles better than the base model newer version.
Honestly, when he happily handed me the keys to the gold Prius I was torn. I didn't ask and certainly didn't want him to spend that kind of money on me, but there is absolutely no way I can induce him to let me pay for either car. Returning the blue car was not an option. It wouldn't have been even if my father hadn't gone and fallen in love with the leather seats and automatic mirror defrosters. He bought the car so I would have a car he approved of me driving. To refuse to take it, to not accept a present he took such joy in giving me, would have made him so unhappy. He was thrilled to be able to do something for me, plus he really likes the blue Prius better. He's very proud of the deal he got on what he refers to as the first luxury car he's ever owned.
So I made a decision to put my self-respect aside and make him happy by accepting the car graciously and enthusiastically. Despite the fact that he REALLY shouldn't have - I do love the car. Seriously, I could not be more thrilled. Well, maybe I could be more thrilled if I'd bought and paid for it myself, if I'd been able to buy and pay for it myself... Wait. No. Shut up and be grateful. Giving me this gift makes him happy. Having this gift makes me happy. I need to let go of guilt and just accept.
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