This past weekend, I went car shopping for the first time. There's so much more that goes into purchasing a vehicle aside from just the money. There are colors and features; the way something looks. There's efficiency and value; what something is. And then there's comfort and models; how something just feels.
Then I got to thinking about people and cars.
Like any relationship, people get attached. Whether they fall in love with something exterior or interior, or just the nature of something or someone comfortable, there's always some doubt in whether or not the investment is actually worth it.
Time, money - people invest these things in cars. Time, money - people also invest these things in certain people.
Take the first day, for example. We began at Carmax. I must have sat in and tried between 15-20 cars before I found just two that I thought were compatible - a 2006 Hybrid Prius and a 2008 Mazda CX-7.
The car salesman said, "Well, what do you usually value? How something looks or the efficiency of something?"
I didn't really know how to answer him, because, in all honesty, I look at both. But neither of the two had both.
The first one had the better interior features and efficiency. From first glance, it looked great. It was compact, complicated and quiet. It was smooth and suave, colorful and slow. The second one was the complete opposite. An SUV, it was taller and titanic. It was better looking on the outside, and it felt good. And it was fast and simple.
Coincidentally, they were both made respectively at the start of my former two relationships. Mr. 2006 was initially what I wanted. He was suave and sensitive, quiet and pretty. He took his time with things but he wasn't reliable at all. And, just like a battery, our relationship died after only a few years. Mr. 2008 came along and swept me off my feet. He was tall and handsome, and knew what he wanted. He was simple and lived his life in the fast lane. But after only a year, that car sped off without me.
And I began to realize that, just like people and cars, the investments I'd chosen to make with two seemingly genuine commitments weren't worth the cost at all. And I ended up paying more for the aftermath than I actually gained from the adventure. Salesmen throw all of these benefits and "free stuff" at you in the beginning, just like people put on their best first impression. But what about in a few years? What happens down the road or the highway or the countryside? And is it as easy as they say to just replace something that isn't perfect?
So instead of making an impulsive decision, I decided to reflect on the word "investment". Monetary or emotional, investments made today are crucial for the future.
We began to crunch numbers and figured out that some brand new cars would be comparable, if not better than the used ones.
So the car buying process continued, and what I found was this:
Now, maybe this isn't what I'll end up actually purchasing, but it did spark something in me that I hadn't really thought about in terms of investments.
You see, I'm the kind of person who sees something, and based on feeling alone, make decisions. I have lived my whole life vicariously through my heart. Yet surprisingly, this car-buying process has taught me a lesson in patience and practicality.
Sure, spending hours looking at two potential purchases that I'm not even buying anymore seems useless. And sure, spending three years in two relationships that turned out to be dead-end roads seemed a little useless too.
But in reality, until you test-drive something, be it a hatchback or a romance, you won't know what you want. And most importantly, you won't ever figure out what you don't want.
Cars die, relationships end. And with the all the work that goes into both just in general, don't invest in something that requires more than it's actually worth down the road.
Because after all, don't we all deserve to settle for nothing less than a perfect FIT?
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