The bells and whistles vs. the boring, reliable car

The last time I bought a car I made a terrible mistake.

After a succession of purchases involving a small, reliable car from an Asian-based manufacturer with a sterling reputation for quality, I wanted something more fun and interesting. Something a little sporty with some bells and whistles and a sun roof. I don’t think it was a mid-life crisis, but I did want to feel the wind blowing through my greying, thinning hair.

I was not, however, willing to break the bank to fulfil this flight of fancy and so I ended up with the “sport” model of an underpowered car from a manufacturer of dubious quality.

It had bells and whistles, but they mostly came from the dashboard lights going off because of yet another problem. Then there’s this: the door handle fell off.

Though I enjoyed driving it in the early going — it was like a go-kart with leather seats — the reliability issues soon sucked most of the joy (and money) out of the experience. I vowed that when the time came, I would go back to boring.

That moment arrived much sooner than I expected after my daughter was involved in an accident that totalled the car (she was fine and it was not her fault.) Suddenly, I had the opportunity to correct my bad decision and find something more suitable.

Instead, I began shopping for my dream car.

While I grew up fantasizing over Magnum PI’s red Ferrari, I’ve come to accept that I’ll never be able to afford an exceedingly impractical, outrageously expensive Italian monstrosity (or grow a fantastic Tom Selleck moustache).

Instead, I’ve set my sights on an older model, high-mileage German-built sedan typically driven by occasionally arrogant jerks (like me!)

This, of course, makes no sense. In addition to being largely out of my price range, they go against my general sensibilities: cars aren’t investments, they are tools that wear out so spending excessively on one is a fool’s game. But even a fool looks good behind the wheel of a BMW and so I’ll spend a few days surfing car ads and formulating justifications I could use on my wife.

In the end, however, I did the smart thing for a change.

The idea of filling the tank with premium gasoline, paying more for repairs or letting my kid drive a car I actually cared about was simply too much to bear.

So common sense prevailed in the form of a small, reliable, efficient car from an Asian-based manufacturer with a sterling reputation for quality. It is neither fun nor interesting and it’s hearse-like profile gives off something less than a sporty vibe. It has no bells, nary a whistle and the only way I feel the wind in my hair is if I stick my head out of the window.

And yet I’m happy. It gets me from A to B without much fuss and at a reasonable cost. It’s unlikely to break down and parts will be plentiful and affordable if it does. I bet it’s a car that Tom Selleck wouldn’t mind driving — I mean, he’s 73-years-old now.