The Hunt for Red October is over. That’s what I called our motor vehicle acquisition mission this past week, because who can say motor-vehicle-acquisition-mission ten times without hurting themselves?
The hunt is over.
It’s a good thing we only do this every 10+ years, and it’s a bad thing we only do this every 10+ years. The technology of a car changes dramatically in that length of time.
FYI, we could still — and did — opt for crank windows and side mirrors in our last vehicle because we could, and because we didn’t want a lot of electronic gizmos that had a tendency to flip out if it got too wet, or too cold, or too hot. Those electronic gizmos only like just right. It’s the Goldilocks Syndrome.
I’m interested in just two things on a Red October Hunt…
Does the MV (motor vehicle) have big tires?
Because size matters.
Where’s the chrome?
I have lust in my heart for chrome, so you will find me in the showroom checking-out your chrome. Whatever chrome you’ve got on display, I’m checking it out. Dealer beware!
It has been our habit to buy this type of car…
The practical, little efficiency. Great on gas mileage. Affordable.
Ho and Hum. But really cute Ho and Hum.
The little efficiency that could.
This time around, barring a two-seater roadster, my pulse was racing for a big gas guzzler with a monster footprint. Planet be damned. I wanted it. Tires, baby. More than a hint of chrome, baby. 4-wheel drive. All-terrain. Because I really need that cruising down Bay Street in Toronto. Totally.
Fortunately, Mr. G honey’s cooler head prevailed. Because he doesn’t care
nearly as much at all about those things. He cares about $$$$ and gas mileage, and performance and storage, and how many cup holders it has. Yup. That last one is his one fatal weakness. Fatal. Weakness.
The Hunt for Red October is over. We bought something roomier than our little Toyota Echo we bought in 2000, which performed just fine. Thank you very much.
We bought something that accommodated the 90 lb G-Pup a little easier. We bought something a little heavier, with decent gas mileage and good performance — at least in 2011 — with a cup holder or ten for Mr. G.
The tires are slightly bigger. And if I lean over and look really hard, I can see
a hint no chrome. There is no chrome. If there is chrome it is undetectable to the human eye.
I’ll have to live with the pain.
Today, I am totally knackered. Buying a car is freakin’ exhausting.
It’s the Closing Room.
It will suck you in and spit you out where nobody knows your name.