We just broke down. I don’t know if it was any one thing. Somewhere along the line we just started seeing less and less of each other. There were always excuses… car repairs, appliance replacement, new cars, and vacations. Sure, it wasn’t just the big things. There were everyday things that kept us apart too. Day care, utility bills, insurance, high speed internet access, mortgage payments, cell phones … there seemed to be no end. One thing after another was keeping us apart. How can a relationship last like that?

I guess it was a big one that finally tipped the scalles. The air conditioner started blowing warm air, and it was the final straw. George, Abe, Alex… they all just got up and left. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again.

What’s the deal with imports and modified exhaust systems. Take a car with a four cylinder engine. Now take off the muffler, and WAA LAA! – it still sounds like a four cylinder engine. Suddenly it’s cool for your car to sound like a party favor? My first car sounded like that – but only because it needed costly repairs. The last couple of mornings I have had the pleasure of following such a specimen to work. It’s a little Japanese import, not unlike my own – assuming you ignore the headlights, the tail lights, the brake lights, the license plate frame, the window tinting, the bumpers, the fenders, the soft purple glow, and the mock car phone antenna (didn’t people stop using the real thing about fifteen years ago?). Oh well, who am I to talk? If it makes them happy, what the hell. If they’ve entertained even one person (including myself), it was all worth while.

I won the buy/lease debate. I lost the small car/big car debate. We bought a Honda CR-V, the little SUV. We bought the bottom of the line, no extras added version; but it still came with plenty of powered accessories: power windows, power door locks, cruise control, et al. It was also my first experience haggling over price, and the first time something I said elicited something like an angry response in a salesman. The downshift into simile was intentional – who knows how much of the response was genuine or part of the routine? It was a classic negotiation. I started way below where he wanted to be, he started a lot higher, but we met somewhere in between. The question is, who one? Do I get points for ending up closer to my starting point than he did? Other than the fact that a car purchase was not part of my ten year plan, I feel that I did not spend too much on a car. What more could you ask for?

Oh yeah, we really like the car.

When last we communed, I was about to euthanize Cheryl’s car. Well, it turns out it didn’t quite come to that. Cheryl is once again driving around in her golden lemon on wheels. But we have been discussing the possibility of replacements. The problem is that we really like our money, what little we have of it. A new car will force a separation, one that we don’t take lightly. In this light, Cheryl has been swept up in the phenomenon known as the dealer lease program. The idea is that you make lower payments leasing a car for a few years, then trade in the car at the end of the term for another car, and another lease. As I see it, this means they have you forever. They never let you forget that leases result in lower monthly payments. Like, “wow, I can’t believe were going to let you walk out of here with such a great deal!” Once again, the cynic in me comes out. It seems to me that selling cars is a business. Businesses do what they do to make money. Leasing cars makes them money, otherwise they wouldn’t do it. All things being equal, if leasing you a car made them less money than selling you a car, wouldn’t they tend to push the sale rather than the lease? Does anyone find it odd that it is the other way around; namely they are pushing the lease? Do you really think they are, in effect saying: “please come in and give us less of you money”? I think they’re worried you’ll buy the car and they won’t see you again for ten years. Sure, they get less up front with a lease, but do they have you by the balls at the end of the term? Now you’ve got to come back in, if for no other reason than to turn in THEIR car. Then they get to be a salesman all over again, preferably to lease you another car. “Welcome back! Please spend less of your money again”, and again, and again…

As some of you may already know, Cheryl’s car and I do not have a very good relationship. I hate it. I can only assume it hates us, based on it’s abhorrent behavior. Lesser mortals would have lost their patience long ago, though I must admit that I came close many moons ago. This week may have been the alternator that broke my patience’s limit. Sure, six alternators in six years sounds like a lot, but taken with the car’s otherwise repugnant history, it’s a mole hill on the mountain. This week we’ve installed numbers five and six, but I wouldn’t bet on us buying number seven. It’s high time we parted ways. Now if I can just convince our budget to play ball…

What is the most frustrating thing that a car could do to you? How about quitting on you far from home? How about doing it twice in four days? Can an inanimate object be euthanized?

We owe more than we would like to the bank, but we’ve decided to spend more money. Owing to a lack of memories of a honeymoon of any kind (I got violently ill just before our first one and had to skip it), we have decided to take another little trip. When you owe several thousand, what’s another couple hundred?

We were supposed to take delivery on Friday. I was home well before I was supposed to, just to make sure I was there in plenty of time. I walked in the door and thought to myself, “I wonder if there is a message on the machine from the delivery service?” This would not be a story needing telling if there weren’t. Just before the timid voice of a person from the delivery service came on, my answering machine announced, “TODAY AT 10:31 A.M.” The representative then advised, “the truck didn’t come in yesterday with your bed, so we’ll need to reschedule for next week.” I immediately thought to myself, “the truck didn’t come in yesterday, and you’re calling me today, two hours before the bed is supposed to be here?” Now I’m home, I’m hungry (because I’ve put off lunch until I got home to meet the delivery folks), and I’m just a little bit angry. So I get on the phone. Lord help those people if it had been Cheryl instead of me. I’m soft spoken and reserved, Cheryl is not. But I’m pretty hot, and I calmly let the person on the other end know I am. We confirm a delivery for the next week and hang up. Suddenly it’s me and the house, no one to keep me company but my anger. So, I call Cheryl at work. I share the news with her. Now she’s angry. She calls the store where we bought the bed, but before she can editorialize, the woman on the other end interjects: “that’s unacceptable!” Somewhat disarmed, Cheryl is too stunned to immediately launch into possible remedy, and the store representative quickly interjects, “we’re going to refund your delivery charge.” Meekly, Cheryl says o.k., and hangs up. Cheryl lives for the moment when she can angrily suggest a right to someone’s wrong. How could they do it to her? How could they take this moment from her? Truth be told, she didn’t mind so much. Now it’s Monday and we’re keeping our fingers crossed once again.

We’re still waiting for our bed. Cheryl is excited. I am … not exactly excited. Intrigued is a word. Cautious is another word. Skeptical is yet another word. If you put all of those words together … you still don’t quite have what I feel. It’s not all bad. I kind of feel like I just spent two times the market value of a car loaded with extras, to be used as a third car in a two driver household. It was expensive, it looks cool, and I’m afraid we won’t get as much use out of it as we would like. For the price we paid, I feel like it should wash its own sheets, tuck us in at night, and sing us a lullaby. Instead, it promises to feel like I’m sleeping in a John mold.

Cheryl and I went out and parted with serious money today. This was engine replacement serious. No, we aren’t having more trouble with our cars. If we were I’d sooner take the bus than replace an engine. We went out and bought a bed, and in the unlikeliest of places (for me anyway): Brookstone. I’ve been to Brookstone many times, but I never seriously thought about buying something there. I always thought of Brookstone as a kind of brick and mortar infomercial. Looking at bed in the store, I was just waiting for a sales man to walk up to me with a wireless mike and say, “IT NEVER NEEDS TURNING. IT NEVER NEEDS FLIPPING. JUST PUT IT IN YOUR BEDROOM AND NEVER HAVE A BAD NIGHT’S SLEEP AGAIN. IT’S JUST THAT SIMPLE. AND WHEN YOU BUY ONE OF OUR BEDS, YOU’LL GET AN ALLERGY COVER FOR FREE. THAT’S RIGHT, YOU’LL GET EVERYTHING YOU SEE HERE FOR ONLY $2400.00.” ALL CAPS is meant to signify a middle aged man speaking in a near shout, like he’s trying to speak to you over a loud stereo – without the stereo. The metaphor would be perfect, were it not for the price. No, this bed does not come at some bargain price (plus 95 cents). The sticker price is a little shocking, space age technology or not. So what is it that I’m talking about? It’s the Tempur-pedic mattress, the only bed with “memory foam” developed by NASA for use in spacecraft. You lay on it and it holds its shape (for a while), like laying down in a custom mold you make every night. Sound comfortable? I guess we’ll find out.