I Bought A Car
By: Keith R. Higgons
Tags: Dmv, Volkswagen, Automobile, Cars

I lived in NYC for about 14 years and never had a need to own a car — much less a desire. You see, I hate cars. I always have.

Having left the city five years ago for greener pastures, I’ve managed to avoid the purchase of a car (although I did get a motorcycle).

OK, to be honest, I don’t HATE cars, I just don’t understand the wild appeal they have. If I had infinite financial resources, maybe I would like cars a whole lot more.

But I don’t have infinite resources.

And growing up in Ohio, where auto manufacturing was close to king, you may think I would love cars. I left Ohio shortly after graduating high school, so you can draw your own conclusion from that.

That said, I will give the advertising agencies their props. Over the years they’ve helped move Americans (and a huge chunk of the world) into a pathological frenzy about their automobiles.

And home builders — ever wonder why the garages moved to the FRONT of the house around the 1950's? That was deliberate. But I digress.

As you can probably guess I have zero brand loyalty to automobiles. So when I began looking for a car the only criteria was whatever was in my budget and a car I thought I could get a couple years out of. So I bought a 2011 red, 4-door VW GTI.

The car was nice enough:

Low mileage.

Carfax was clean.

Title was clean.

It looked OK (I may not like cars, but I don’t really wanna drive around in a heaping pile of shite).

It has Bluetooth AND six CD changer.

The car was a little north of what I wanted to spend, but the low mileage on a ten — year — old car sealed the deal.

When I mentioned to friends that I bought a car, I was inundated with “THAT’S GREAT!,” “AWESOME!,” and “CONGRATULATIONS!” A bit odd I thought, so I just thanked them and carried on. But I was left thinking exactly what did I do?

I didn’t have a child.

I didn’t win anything.

I certainly didn’t get a raise or promotion (pandemic related, not performance related).

For me, congratulating someone for getting a car is kind of like being congratulated for getting an STD. I mean, there is fun in getting them (typically speaking), but having them? Totally different story.

A more appropriate response may be:

“Welcome to the club of wasting your money!”

Even objectively, cars are financial sinkholes. There is gas, insurance, regular upkeep, and the usual dumb stuff that happens. And if you’re lucky, you won’t encounter an accident.

And where I live, cars are considered “property” — and taxed as such.

To date, I have always rented my homes, but my rudimentary understanding is that property ACCRUES in value. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, boats, etc. do the exact opposite.

Sure, some gear head is saying “There are cars that gain value!” Of course, maybe some vintage cars owned by car collectors may gain value (provided they do nothing with them), but for us everyday folk, that’s not the case. In fact, according to Bankrate.com, the rule of thumb is that vehicles will lose between 15–20% of their value annually.

Congratulations indeed!

SOME REASONS I DON’T LIKE CARS:

Financial sinkholes.

Traffic is by and large frustrating, regardless of where you live.

Other car drivers (I’m not saying I’m great, I just don’t LOOK AT MY FUCKING PHONE WHILE DRIVING and I stay pretty close to the speed limit).

And of course, those three letters — DMV.

I realize it is somewhat pedestrian to rip on the DMV, but I’ve lived in five states as a driver and dealt with five DMV’s. And in each of those states, the DMV workers I have dealt with were, by and large, straight up dicks.

The statistical odds of each person I encountered over these years each having some sort of personal frustration, on that particular day, that turns them into an asshole is virtually nil.

Possible? Sure.

Probably? No.

I went to the DMV yesterday to register the car, and I encountered what I always do at the DMV — aggressive indifference. After taking all my paperwork, by mumbling the DMV equivalent of “Where are you papers?” She gave everything a look see and then took my insurance card and disappeared (without saying a word) for 15 minutes. I could see her and clearly there was an issue, but I had no idea. She finally came back, said nothing, and carried on.

Curious, I asked her what the problem was. Being a soft talker, she told me. Sadly, the eight feet of distance between us and the one-inch thick plastic partition that separated us made it impossible to hear.

“Was there something wrong?”

“(inaudible)”

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“(inaudible)”

“I’m sorry I can’t hear you.”

“(inaudible) insurance (inaudible) match”

Giving up, I held on to those two words and pieced together that maybe the VIN numbers don’t match.

Then I got slapped with a 500 dollar fee. When I asked what for, she just flat out ignored me.

“500 dollars — what for?”

“(punching her keyboard)”

Now, I’m 45 minutes in and 500 down, so I’m feeling snarky.

“OK, we can just table that question. That’s cool.”

“(stink eyed side glance and something garbled)”

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“(inaudible) emissions (inaudible)”

I presumed she was asking if I had the car taken for an emissions test.

“No. Not yet”

“(inaudible) 60 days (inaudible)”

“OK, got it.” — I did not have it.

After I paid, she was copying and stapling documents.

“Can I have a receipt please?” — I wanted to know that the 500 dollars was all about.

“(inaudible) back (inaudible)” — and she slid the packet under the plastic divider.

Turns out the 90% of that 500 dollars was sales tax. Like a knucklehead, I put the sale price down close to what I paid. That’s on me.

And so I begin this journey and including “car expense” on my personal line item budget.

Congratulations indeed.