Car shopping, and goodbye old paint

Cars have been an abiding interest of mine since I was a teenager, but I've managed to have enough self-control to resist buying a car every three or four years. In fact, I've tended to keep cars so long that I become attached to them, like family pets. I would learn their idiosyncrasies, such as an unwillingness to start on rainy days, and provide whatever special care they required. I kept one car for 16 years, another for nine, and I've had my current ride for 14 years. I would give them up with great reluctance, as if giving away a family heirloom.

But when the module that controls the air bags on my current vehicle quit working several months ago, I recognized that it might be time to dump this faithful friend. My wife refused to ride with me on the interstate knowing that if there were an accident, the air bag would not deploy. Since then all of our out-of-town trips have been in her car, which is eight years old, still a relative youngster.

A few weeks ago, I began perusing the car ads in the newspaper and online and rubber-necking as I passed by car lots. I envisioned several models that would satisfy my needs, mostly used cars because I didn't want car payments to control my budget. A couple of weeks ago, I found a car that fit my vision of my next car almost perfectly. This 2003 model with 119,000 miles looked remarkably well-cared-for, and it had a stick shift, which I wanted but is increasingly difficult to find. I drove the car. I liked it. I had a mechanic check it out. I went back and forth: Should I buy it, look for something newer or just stick with what I've got?

On a warm spring-like Friday afternoon, with the top off my old car with the non-functioning airbags, I took a spin around town and loved what I was driving as if I were driving it for the first time. After having visited a couple of car lots and having seen all the shiny new cars with their flawless sheet metal and fresh upholstery, I still couldn't convince myself that I wanted to give up the fun of my underpowered, glitch-ridden, well-worn but remarkably fun little car. Like a man with a "bucket list," I longed to get this car back on a twisty mountain road to downshift and upshift and twist the steering wheel. But mountains are far from here, and I don't know if we'll ever make it there again; I might have to look for curves closer to home. With the top off and the wind in the remnants of my hair, I lost my impatience for something new. I'll have to hold off the siren song of a new car for a few more months.

Next fall, when the cold returns and the rains leak into the car's interior and trunk, I might regret this decision, but today the sun is shining, and it feels right.