Your car makes a statement about you

Answer this quiz: Is the car you drive (a) A means of getting from point A to point B; or (b) A statement about who you are?

For too many people, and for a variety of reasons, the honest answer is (b). For some people, a shiny new car connotes a certain classy prestige. It is a statement about one's wealth and status. For others, a hybrid vehicle identifies them as people concerned about the fate of the earth and determined preserve natural resources. Still others drive gargantuan vans or SUVs that identify them as parents of several children who must be shuttled from place to place. Some people (OK, men) drive beefy, heavy pickup trucks that make a statement about their manliness and hardy blue-collar status (even if they have white-collar jobs).

For the past 13 years, I have been driving a nimble, two-seater with a manual transmission and a removable top. Its statement, I suppose, was that I was a sporty guy, or perhaps a man dealing with a mid-life crisis. But for me, it was simply a fun car to drive, as well as a practical one. Why drive around with four empty seats you don't need? And its gas mileage could nearly compete with hybrids. When I hemmed and hawed over whether to buy the car in 1996, my wife made the killer argument for the purchase: "If you don't buy it now," she said, "the next time you'll be too old." So I bought it, and I've had few regrets. Several times, I've been able to wind it out (insofar as its 86 horsepower engine would wind) on twisty mountain roads, working the clutch and shift lever as often as I worked the steering wheel.

That 15-year-old car, which I've driven more than 100,000 miles (it has 141,000 miles on the odometer), is in the shop this week, getting some body work repaired, and I've been driving a rental car the past couple of days. The rental, a Nissan Sentra, is a basic vehicle: automatic transmission, cloth seats and air conditioning. Not exciting, but quite practical. It gets me from point A to point B reliably and in some comfort. Its strong air conditioner is a delight compared to the effete AC in my Del Sol, whose black exterior and black interior soak up the summer heat like a heat sink.

This experience has made me rethink my intentions about my "next" car, if I ever get around to trading the Del Sol. (Gotta find a job first.) I had thought I'd look for another sporty car with a stick shift, another car that would be fun to drive, and, as a bonus, less likely to be stolen (car thieves don't drive stick shifts). But this week's rental has reminded me how pleasant an undemanding family car can be. Before buying the Del Sol, I drove a Plymouth K-Car for nine years and loved it. It was generally reliable, comfortable, and capable of seating up to six people. It got me from point A to point B. If the air conditioning had not died, I would have driven it several more years.

With my Honda getting its dents repaired, maybe I'll drive it indefinitely, despite its occasional leaks, its well-worn interior, its laggard air conditioning and its air bags that no longer work (they need a $750 replacement module). Driving it is still fun, especially if I can get it to the mountains.

I've even suggested that my heirs might save money by using the car as my casket when the time comes.