Bored angels again (or, will she never learn?)

In mid-May, I took my Honda in for a checkup. $900 later, I was set with new tires, clean spark plugs, and a schedule for maintenance clearly in place. I was feeling smug, happy: my car was good to go for some time to come, and I was starting to save money (as evidenced by my ability to buy new tires.)

Like a fool, I voiced my satisfaction with my lot, and those goddamned Bored Angels heard me. About 3 weeks ago, I was driving in Albuquerque, en route to a therapy session followed by a nice lunch with a newish friend. I pulled off the highway to stop by UNM and return M's book for her. As I sat, second in line at the stoplight (Candelaria and the frontage road), I heard a loud bang, felt a sharp impact that moved me forward into the car ahead, into the intersection. I braked, panicking as I picked up speed and pushed the other car, realizing in a second that I actually had my foot on the gas. I stopped, looked behind, looked ahead, and continued on through the intersection. Pulling over, I sat, stunned, with the contents of my purse and the car's cubby and the passenger seat scattered along the floor boards.

Long story short, my car was totaled.

I learned the following things:

1. I hate insurance adjusters.
2. I really hate car salesmen.
3. I really really hate our credit system

The insurance adjusters offered me $8400 for my nice little Honda with the leather seats and moon roof and gutsy engine and good mileage and brand new tires.  (My research tells me I cannot find a replacement for less than $9000, realistically it's worth about $9700.)  They told me I could have my rental for 7 more days, but I wouldn't get my money for 6 more days. So, I could shop all I wanted but I couldn't actually buy anything before my rental was gone.

I fight with State Farm.
The final call ends thusly:
"You guys are assholes!"

Another mind-boggling fact:  insurance checks are considered high risk. I have to wait 7 business days before I can actually access the money. So, they don't send the check for 7 days after they offer a settlement, and then I have to wait another 7 days before I can use it, but they don't give me a rental for that length of time.  How am I supposed to find a car if I don't have a car?  How can I buy a car with no money for a down payment?

Somehow I am missing something: it doesn't make sense to me. Why would they write a policy like that?

Car salesmen....well you know. It's a game, and I don't play it well. I did my research, test drove a lot of cars, negotiated, asked the opinions of friends and family, looked some more. I started with the idea of making lemonade of the situation: I need AWD for the mountains, and this was the chance to get it. But, with AWD you give up fuel economy and pickup. And, with used cars, you have to look at so many things to offset the lack of warranty. And you never find the price or the model that you researched at home. I tried used car lots in Santa Fe, Albuquerque, and Denver.

5 hours with salesmen.....
Typical used car salesmen.
I have bought nothing.

I hate dickering,
So I don't. Instead I have
Cinnamon French toast.

Nowhere could I negotiate the dealers down to true market value. Craigslist specialized in personal used cars with over 150K miles on them, or dealer come-ons.  So, I started looking at new cars, and hit the problem of finding what I wanted at the price that I wanted. Things look great, doable, reasonable online.  On the street is another matter.  My auto body guy told me that the problem was New Mexico's small population, so I tried Autotrader, with an expanded geographical search. They had no cars, new or used, for under $16K.  I was seriously considering buying a junker and running it into the ground, but I live in the mountains:  if my car dies, I can't just take public transportation until it's fixed.  In the end, I was weighing the pros and cons of buying an older used car with the money I had, versus buying a new car and repairing my credit.  

This is where I ran afoul of the credit system. Did you know that banks and car dealers figure your credit differently? I was given 3 different numbers: 640, 612, 603. None of them good, of course. Then, there are the loan applications, which want you to have a stable income and residence.  10 months is not stable.  In the last three years I have had 5 addresses, 2 ft jobs, unemployment, and 4 pt jobs.  My current job has no pay stubs to speak of, and no tax information (I filed it as hobby income last year.) Finally, there is the house in Portland. As far as the banks are concerned, it's a debt, and they don't recognize the rental income. So, I look like a total financial flake to them. Never mind the 20+ years living in one place, working at one place, and paying my bills. 

The process of determining all this goes something like this:  We can offer 0% interest for the life of the loan....FOR QUALIFIED BUYERS.  Okay, you're not qualified for that, but let's look at the .09% offer for a 3-year loan.  Okay, let's add a co-signer at 5%.   That's not going to work, but we can probably get you, 9.9% with no co-signer and you can refinance with your credit union. Oh, we can't do anything without a check in hand.  (As you recall, I had no check from State Farm.  Still don't for that matter, until 7/19.)  At this point my head explodes and I go home for a stiff drink, leaving the car which I have negotiated down to a reasonable price still sitting in the lot.

It's humiliating, being treated like pond scum by the system. Even though I've made some poor financial choices in the last few years, I have also basically taken care of business. But, because I don't currently fit the system's mold, that past is wiped out. I resent the fact that people who need assistance can't get it.  If you need money, it follows you can't afford a high interest rate, right? I mean, I do get that these people are in business, but it's an inherently unfair system. Those with money get the deals, those without don't.  And, I discovered a new quirk: a co-signer needs to live at your address. Or maybe it was the fact that my potential co-signer lives in Colorado while I live in New Mexico. Whatever, I was unable to get a loan at a reasonable rate.

For 3 weeks I fought the good fight, tried to navigate the system, and hoped to not be forced into a bad decision.  And yesterday I threw in the towel.  My co-op mates were loaning me cars, but wanted me to be done with the process.  Next week I have rehearsals and other plans that necessitate having my own wheels. Everyone is weary of the process, no one more than me.  So I made what seems in retrospect a strange and hasty decision.  In the end, I gave up all my original financial specs, but kept the criteria regarding the car. I may change insurance agencies in the future, I have an appointment to check for whiplash, and I may need to get a warranty for the new/old car, but I am DONE with car shopping!

Yesterday went something like this....

I watch the sun rise,
Spend the whole day with car guys,
And watch the moon rise.

We're picking car-beds
Since it seems we're sleeping here
At the dealership.

It's been a long time
But I'm still good at hangman
And she is, also.

Just two hours later,
A nice sunset and moonrise,
Seen from my new car!

I'm tired and driving.
She takes pix through the window
And I edit them.

Here is my last word on the subject, sent to all the people who gave me advice and watched me flail:

To my patient friends who saw me through the last 2.5 weeks...I'll spare you the saga, which most of you followed patiently, but, suffice it to say, everything took too long, there was a bait and switch at the end, and I said, "just take me home." But then things smoothed out.

Esther was a trouper throughout the whole ordeal: accompanied me to all the Santa Fe dealerships and told me I was great. 

She is so patient.
We stop for some gelato,
Then look for more cars.

And tonight, as the hours (yes, HOURS) dragged on, we played hangman.

Oh, you want to know about the car?

2013 Impreza AWD hatchback. Black inside and out. 61K miles. $19225. 2.99% over 76 mo, $178 monthly payments. 60-day/2000 mi warranty. I may need to buy more coverage, but balked at their price tag for it.

Has paddles that let me shift gears...still figuring that out.

It's exactly what I wanted, actually. So, all in all, I'm happy. The drive home was lovely: on my right, purple/orange/pink/golden/red sunset, with streaks of vertical lightning. On my left, an apricot moon rising. Almost worth the time it took to get signed. Almost.

Anyway, thanks for all your support, and please don't tell me I made a bad choice. I like my new car. :)
I'm hoping the Bored Angels don't notice that last line.

The 53-year-old adolescent

Last night I dreamed I was at a class reunion.  But I didn't realize it was a class reunion until C came up to me and said, pointedly, "Hello."   I didn't recognize her at first.  We walked and talked awkwardly.  I know from Facebook that she is married with a beautiful daughter and  a happy life, but in the dream she was single and unhappy, and not admitting it.  She was aloof, which was odd, since she approached me to begin with and I had always had a cordial, if not close, relationship with her.  The scene shifted, as dream scenes do. She had moved to a reference desk:  we were in a library and she was volunteering.  I tried to assist and got a patron from hell who yelled at me and asked for someone else to help her.  (She had lost a bet on a horse race and was looking for information on the horse.)

The dream was an odd amalgam of high school and work.  Now that I've written it down, it seems obvious that it's about the toxic environment at work.   It doesn't take much insight to realize that one of the reasons I'm sensitive to criticism and back-biting is my experience with the public school system and the mean-spirited nature of adolescence.  After high school, I learned that I was worthwhile and talented and accomplished, but that self-knowledge remains a facade, easily breached with the right (or wrong) concatenation of events.  All the subsequent learning and self-confidence can crumble, and my high school default mechanisms return.  I don't confront, I try to hide my hurt, I absorb and accept and amplify the negative assessment, and I move on, curled tightly around the fragile cracked core of my being.

My current task is to repair that core.  I get tired of the job, though.  I want to plaster it over and forget about it.  I want that hurt teenager to stop whining and influencing me.  I'm 53 years old fergawdsake, I have a responsible job, I have grown up things to do.  Enough with the adolescent angst.

Work has actually reached a detente.  I start my day with a 2-minute Power Stance, which actually seems to have an effect on my day.  My bete noir has eased off the backbiting and snippy repartee, and my bosses are backing me on next steps.  But personally?  That's another matter.  I find myself addicted to the internet, obsessively checking my accounts, living from text to text and post to post, sharing the minutia of my life, trying to connect with someone, anyone, distracting myself from doing what I need to do.  I reach out for contact and feel rejected and hurt when people have other commitments.  I doubt the friendships, and I don't want to be alone.

Yesterday I colored Easter eggs by myself.  I've happily done that in the past, but usually I connect with a friend or three and make a party of it.  I remember coloring eggs with my cousin:  he is so creative. His eggs were rich with color and design.  I remember discovering, via my aunt, how amazingly deep the colors are when you use brown eggs.  I remember borrowing friends' kids, and the joy of helping them discover their own styles.  The great thing about crafting with another person is the variety that results.  Everyone has a different mode of expression, it's very personal.  You can tell without being told who did what work.  (Once, when I was living with my cousin and T and S, I had my first pumpkin carving party.  R joined T and S and me. We lighted the jack-o-lanterns and lined them up on the living room floor, and when my cousin came home we made him guess who had carved which pumpkin.  He got them all right.)

But the real reason to craft with another person is to feel that connection.  Some people need solitude to produce anything.  I used to be that way, and in many of my previous posts you'll find me complaining that D is distracting me from doing meaningful, creative, or joyful work.  Now it appears that I was blaming him unfairly.  I have lost my ability to be alone, to find joy in the creative process.  I need someone to be with me, to praise the end result, to share in the process and product.

Without that connection, all I can seem to do is post pictures to the internet, and whine in this blog.  I am so looking forward to getting past this stage.  But, how do I do that?  I can't build a framework when the core is weak.  Do I really have to tear down the facade and fix the foundation?

I think I need a new metaphor.  Meanwhile....here are pictures of my Easter eggs.    The proper response is "ooh!"  And to post your own pix back.

Organic eggs will
Produce richer colors, and
Tastier omelettes.