Monday Mourning

This is post #2 under the same headline -

Last night, Matticia told me he nearly cried on the way home from work. He had spent many hours yesterday fussing about party effects he's purchased for delivery - and saw a guy trying to sell his bicycle on the street for $20 to buy some food.

I think that's called "realizing one's priorities are a bit screwed up". I don't know anything about that at all.

A few months ago, I was convinced that a beautiful $100K Audi S8 would make me happy. I had been convinced that a beautiful home with a pool and a garage were necessary and appropriate.

Having had a few of those beautiful homes, with rooms I didn't go into, boxes in closets I didn't open, kitchen appliances in cabinets I didn't use, I can tell you I was wrong about that.

I didn't really understand HOW wrong I was until this morning.

Even as I settled into my peaceful little apartment, even as I reveled in the freedom of having a LOT less stuff, even as my stress level unwound - I STILL thought that a gorgeous S8 would do me right. Happiness could rise or fall on whether the S8 had a full leather upgrade, and absolutely was dependent on it having the $6800 Bang & Olufsen stereo system.

I poured over the Audi S8 brochure (and the interwebs, frankly, and every other resources I could drum up). I looked at other cars, too. Whipping my neck around at every pretty shade of red paint, maybe THAT one, maybe THIS one.

Then, the week before my birthday, I started to contemplate how much money I was spending on having a car.

I've been making car payments since the fall of 1977 - so, 32 years of monthly obligation. 384 months of uncertainty. 11,520 days of worry. 230,400 or so individual moments of being afraid, unsure, or concerned.

I drive 4.6 miles each way to the office. Once or twice a week, I drive 52 miles round trip to the church. Every once in a while, I may run up ten or twenty miles in errands, or to have a visit with someone.

Call it 170 miles a week (last week being the exception with FIVE trips to church).

Those 170 miles will cost a very predictable $35.00 in gasoline and miscellaneous wear and tear on the car. Insurance is another $60 a month.

So, why was I paying nearly a thou a month for a car?

Between the interest cost and depreciation, that's what the Red Rocket was costing.

So, $1.58 a mile.

$7.25 to drive to work.

$164.32 for each drive to church.

$142.20 to visit a friend outside the beltway (no wonder I'm so committed to staying inside the loop).

This was insane. Especially since the math is exacerbated with the stress.

New choices were made.

I just acquired my SECOND 1998 Buick Riviera. Victoria Regina, her name. She has 67K miles on her, fewer than did the Red Rocket. She's paid for in full. She needs some loving labor, but she's pretty.

And I love her.

This morning, as I was running back and forth between the storage locker, the laundry room, VR (as she's now nicknamed), and the mailbox, I kept noticing how much she makes me smile. Like, I am giddy happy smiling.

Giddy. About a car that cost fewer than $4,000.

She doesn't have a snorting V10, Audi exquisite engineering, and she cost less than the Bang & Olufsen stereo.

But, every day that I own her is the opportunity to have something other than twenty fearful thoughts.