Dear George,
As newlyweds Katja and I did all our shopping together, reaching agreement about each purchase before plunking down any money. Toothpaste, a new desk lamp, Argyle socks, shish kebab skewers, whatever. Our marriage, we had pledged, was based on equality. We were positive that marriages last longest when couples make all decisions jointly. Eventually, however, the novelty wore off, and buying stuff became more and more laborious. Basically, as a child of the Great Depression, I didn’t want to spend money on anything but the barest essentials. Katja was a depression baby too, but, thanks to her exuberant father, she grew up with a more free-wheeling attitude. I’m not sure if we made an explicit decision, but, one way or another, our financial procedures changed dramatically. I like to think of it as a matter of specialization. I specialize in Goodwill purchases (mostly T-shirts) and cheap red wine. Katja takes care of the rest: e.g., housing, appliances, furniture, vehicles, vacations, sundries. This system proved more workable. Also I get treated to many surprises.
Katja picked out our two cars quite a while back: a 2008 Honda Accord and a 2003 Chevy Trailblazer SUV (which she purchased to transport our two Old English Sheepdogs). Several years ago some close friends in our age group bought a new Lexus, deciding it would be the final new car they would purchase in their lifetimes. That reasoning struck a chord with Katja, and she’s been thinking about a final new car ever since. My own take on the matter was that since we only drive about 8000 miles a year, our current cars could serve excellently as our final cars. An idea which did not get popular support.
Things came to a head last month when I noticed a grinding noise in the innards of our SUV. The mechanic confirmed my worst fears: the SUV’s transmission had had it. A new transmission would cost more than the SUV was worth, and we regretfully disposed of it. Katja started thinking more seriously about a final new car purchase. I proposed that we could manage just fine with one car since we go most places together. Unfortunately I also told her about an AARP website that lists local dealers’ new car inventories and prices. The website also requests phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Within an hour Katja was contacted by every Honda dealer in the region.
I didn’t want to go to the appointment. “This will be your car,” I suggested, “you should just take care of it.” In truth, the emotional demands of buying a new car were just too much for me. Katja came back very enthusiastic about a Honda CR-V (a compact SUV), but she wanted advice on choosing a color. We went back together the next day and took a test drive. Katja liked being high up while driving. She was upset that new cars don’t have CD players, and we were both overwhelmed about the prospect of dealing with things called Bluetooth or Sirius. We agreed that the basque red Honda was the prettiest. To make a long story short, Katja signed one form after another, wrote a whopping check, and we took her new red CR-V home that very day.
While I’d long resisted the idea of a new car, it took me a only a short time to become enthralled. Among other things, the Honda CR-V is more intelligent than a human driver. It hits the brakes by itself if a crash is imminent, tells you if you’re about to be sideswiped, beeps when you drift from your lane. Beyond all the technology and improved gas mileage, Katja’s new car has transformed our married life. Just weeks ago we were a couple of old fogeys with a fairly old car and a very old SUV. Lots of dings and pings, gizmos breaking down. Now we’re a more sprightly couple with a snazzy new red car, ready to go places and do things. I compiled a checklist of about six dozen destinations in our tristate area. We took our first big trip to the Ohio State Fair last week. Who knows what might be next?
Love,
Dave
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