First
thing to know, I hate buying cars. Always have. It’s true of portions
from the very first experience I had. Never look forward to it.
Little about the process that I enjoy. So, if I’m heading out
comparing something to the ease of buying a car, there is definitely
something way off-kilter being presented.
I’m
guessing my opinion isn’t surprising. For me, there’s something
about the effort that seems off.
A
dealership could have three cars on the lot that are essentially
exactly the same. Model, trim, color and more. Same car. Three
customers could walk onto the property on the same day and after
a vast combination of scenarios plays out— research done, questions
asked, initial offers exchanged, if the salesperson feels particularly
kind or particularly cranky after lunch and on and on—each person
could pay a different amount for their car.
The
majority of my shopping is handled by walking in to a store, seeing
the price of something I’m interested in, and ultimately making
the decision if that’s the price I want to pay. Simple. Basic.
Straightforward.
As
much as I’ve enjoyed the cars I’ve owned over the years, and been
excited about adding a new vehicle, there’s always a moment or
two (or more) where I wonder about what I paid and if I could
have done better. Not regret, mind you. Just a collection of uncertainties,
such as the feeling that no matter how prepared I was and what
I did, I put extra money into the purchase than I should have.
Then
there’s the math. The add this and add that and waiving the other
thing. The back and forth adjusting your insurance. There are
the fees that come in, even after all the paperwork is signed.
(You know. “Yeah, I get your frustration. But that’s the way the
state requires new registration fees to be done.” Something like
that. And there you are, paying an additional $89 or whatever
as a final exchange.)
Even
if some of it goes smoothly, there’s always a part that does not.
So,
yeah, I hate buying cars.
That
understood, there’s a certain part of a car purchase that is fundamentally
very easy. It’s so straightforward and basic that the complexities
involved are easy to miss.
Most
of us know basically what we want.
(I
said basically.)
We
have a general idea of the needs involved. Are we looking for
something that assists with a commute? Is the vehicle necessary
for work (such as carrying tools and equipment)? Do we need a
lot of passenger space?
Most
of us know, fairly quickly, if we’re in the market for a sedan,
truck or minivan. We know whether we need a wide range of entertainment
options, and have a decent grasp of what we like from a GPS system.
I
was thinking about this a bit lately because I couldn’t make some
decisions about what to do around my house.
Yup,
I was comparing life to buying a car, and wishing the decisions
were as simple as knowing what I needed.
Of
course, as you’d probably guess, the more I thought about it the
more I decided it was an effort less about knowing my needs and
better suited to comparison with the negotiating a price aspect:
awkward with the occasional second guessing of decisions.
There
are days when, from the moment we roll out of bed, everything
falls into place. We know what we want to eat. We know what we
want to do. It feels comfortable, likely enjoyable, and we move
smoothly from one activity to the next.
And
then there are the days where everything is wrong. You forgot
to wash your clothes for work, so right out of the gate you’re
scrambling. There’s nothing on TV and you don’t feel like meandering
through the offerings on streaming services. Maybe the power goes
out. You’re two steps behind as the sun rises, never find a rhythm
to the day, and then top it all off when you can’t get to sleep
after the sun sets.
A
lot of work goes into organizing chaos. Thoughts and actions that
prepare us for what we need to do. (And a lack of thoughts and
actions that set everything up to settle into place however it
might fall.)
Nothing
is simple. Even when it feels right.