Did I tell you about the last two years of my life?
Mr. Manne died. I moved to Ohio. My mother died. My father died. I married the love of my life, with whom I had only spent four weekends since 2005.
So it goes, right? That’s how everyone rolls through life, right? Life seems uncertain, and then BOOM—you hit forty and do everything all at once, No? Just me? Okay.
Just after the wedding, I started this experiment of purchasing nothing. I decluttered (and am still decluttering), reviewed my finances, and realized that, oh CRAP—it’s a mess. It’s always been a mess.
I looked at everything except vehicles; my vice and passion were left off the table for scrutiny. I had trimmed the excess fat off every other expense and bad habit. I’ve even cut out 90% of my eating-out and take-out coffee. It’s not perfect, but I sincerely thought I’d do worse with this.
Then came the honesty—I’ve always spent too much on my cars. I’ve typically had more than two cars for my entire adulthood; usually a classic (or 2 or 3) and my daily driver. All of these cars would be purchased, registered, and insured and start the lengthy, neverending, expensive process of modification. What can I say? I am, always have been, and always will be a gearhead.
I remember when I found my Roadmaster in a field in Pensacola during my Freshman year of college. She practically mesmerized me, and I thought about her nonstop until she was mine. At that point, I had the Nova, a little 5sp V6 Ranger, and then added the Buick into the stable. I was the only college Freshman I knew that had multiple cars.
It wasn’t like I easily had the money to do this. College was spent living with family, forgoing parties, bringing my lunches with me, and living like a miser in every other way. Then at night, I’d plug in the work light and tinker under the hood until my body ached with fatigue. Everyone else was partying, networking, drinking, and creating social bonds. In hindsight, I can’t say this was the best way to spend my college career, but it kept me out of trouble.
So now I look at these expenses, and the blaring cost is my Raptor. These days I only have 2 vehicles: the Raptor and the Roadmaster. I reluctantly put the Roadmaster up for sale. She’s a challenging sale to anybody but the most fearless of us petrol-headed type people. While the big stuff like engine, transmission, brakes, and suspension are present and accounted for, countless things need to be finished, installed, and buttoned up. If she weren’t mine, I would read that ad and think, “Yikes, too much work.”
My Raptor, though…
I decided to trade her in on something cheaper, reducing payments and overall cost-to-own. Cost-to-own is one of those sneaky topics that is easy to overlook. For me.
I test-drove. I tried. Folks—I’m skeptical that this part of me could ever…EVER…be subdued. The minute I started driving these potential replacement vehicles, I was picturing the mods. A tune, no doubt. Maybe lowering. A wrap? Yeah—I didn’t really like the color. Turning that part of myself off seems like an impossible task.
So, I have backtracked on this part of my expenses experiment. These last two years have been chaotic, and feeling like one thing is staying the same brings comfort. Sometimes that alone is worth hanging onto, even if the actual cost is monetarily higher. This has been the one constant in my life since I was three years old, and I’m okay to pay extra for this one thing.
Skeptically Yours,
Bigskeptic
Amy Liming 