One American's love affair with cars

My problem is, I keep cars too long and get too attached to them.

Take the 1971 Toyota Corona my wife and I bought to replace the Chevy II that had gotten me through three years of college. I kept the Toyota for 16 years. It brought my oldest child home from the hospital. I carpooled in it into Washington, D.C., for three years. It took us on many a long and exhausting trip between D.C. and North Carolina. Before I got rid of it, my daughter, the one who rode home from the hospital in it, drove it (legally) after getting her learner's permit. When I traded it in with 120-some-thousand miles on it, it had a rusting dent in the front fender, some missing rubber molding around the door and its fourth water pump. I still hated to let it go. It had hauled too many memories over too many years.

My latest dilemma involves a 1994 Honda del Sol, which I've driven for 14 years. I had persuaded myself that it was it was time to replace the car. After the module that controls the air bags died (a little $735 computer chip), my wife no longer wanted to ride with me. And there was the little problem with what sailors call watertight integrity. The Targa-roof roadster had always been prone to a little leaking around the windows, but recently it had begun leaking in the trunk too, and the entire car had developed a musty aroma. It really was time to pass it on to someone else who might be willing to fix the flaws. I looked around for a while, uncertain what kind of car I wanted — another fun-to-drive roadster? A practical sedan? Something in between, such as a coupe with a manual transmission? I finally settled on the third option and found a well-cared-for but aging Honda Accord coupe that fit the criteria.

Now it's time to find a new owner for the del Sol. After cleaning out the car and driving it to work on a warm, sunny day, I found myself falling in love with it all over again. Its nimble handling and five-speed transmission made every corner an adventure, and I recalled the several times I got the car on twisty mountain roads, its top removed and open to the sky as autumn leaves whirled in the breeze stirred by the little black car's acceleration as I worked the shifter between second and fourth gears and punched the accelerator for all the speed the little engine could muster. It's the most fun I'm likely to have in a car. The newer coupe that was meant to replace the del Sol does not have the same gear ratios. Its six gears are more tightly spaced and geared more for economy than for acceleration, and its open moon roof does not give the same airy feeling as the removable roof in the older car.

So here I am with an extra car in the driveway, an extra expense on my auto insurance and a reluctance to turn loose of a car that has given me great enjoyment (and relatively few problems) for 14 years. When I was debating whether to buy the del Sol in 1996, my wife put an end to my indecision by telling me frankly, "If you don't buy it now, the next time you buy a car, you'll be too old." She was right. Now I just have to convince myself that I'm too old for it.