Not for the Beltwaybahnen

Does everybody feel like this when they buy a new car?

Don't get me wrong, I didn't buy a new car -- I never have, and intend to keep that streak alive for the remaining 23 years of my life -- but it's new to me, and absurdly cute.

I came home from the dealer, and sat in the driveway at midnight, reading the owner's manuals, thinking, "I could sleep in this car!"

It felt that good.

It's a 2000 Volkswagen Passat station wagon with pretty much all the options and the turbo engine. It's ruby red.

Driving home, it felt like I was home already. By comparison, the Saabs all felt cranky and sterile. They will all be gone soon, or at least most of them. I'm keeping my 1987 as a pet, or a project. The dead ones are going to vanish and my barnyard can grow grass in those spaces again.

Melody's car always felt a little heavy and detached for my tastes. She has a midsize BMW, and while it has a five-speed (my new girl is a five-speed automatic with manual-shift override) for what I mostly do, which is drive from here to Baltimore at fixed speeds with maximum decorum and occasional bursts of insanity, this new girl is much better suited.

I don't want to fight anymore. I want my money to make things better and easier, not postpone inevitable fights with technology that wants to be recycled.

I surrender.

I have an automatic. And a station wagon. And it has everything I like in it, and (so far) nothing I don't like.

Melody probably would like her commutes better with the car I bought tonight. They probably sold it to her with promises of the Autobahnen, but she has to live with the realities of the Beltwaybahnen, and it's nowhere near as much fun.

And I saved a shitload of money by not buying mine new.

I like that.

I suddenly feel like I can do another podcast. Just not right this minute.