One day, a few years ago, before we even started the remodel, the four of us were up in San Francisco for the day. After we had a fabulous lunch in the Marina district, we were driving to Fisherman’s Wharf, intent on getting get sundaes at Ghirardelli.
On Van Ness Avenue, I said, “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.”
“You…wait, what?” Darin said.
“I want to buy a convertible.”
“Okay, for one thing, that is a not a midlife crisis, that is just…wanting a change of pace. For another thing, don’t call it a midlife crisis, that had me in another conversation entirely. And for another, convertibles are a pain in the ass. Why would you want a convertible?”
“Dunno,” I said. “I just suddenly do. I was looking at some cars going by recently and I thought, ‘I’d really like to drive around in a convertible.'”
“Well, you’ve had the Odyssey for several years now, maybe it’s time to think about getting a new car.”
“I don’t want a new car. The Odyssey is a great car. It’s just that I want a convertible. Everybody I know has had a convertible.”
“Yes, and then they all got rid of their convertibles and bought good cars.”
“You have a point there.”
“Do you know what kind of convertible you want?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “I want an SL 500.”
From the look on Darin’s face, I could tell he was rethinking the whole “midlife crisis” analysis.
“Are you sure about this?”
“I don’t want to get one right now. I’m just thinking about it.”
Which is part of the reason that after this conversation I didn’t push the issue. I often get weird obsessions about things, and over time they would fade. Probably, most likely, almost certainly, this would happen too.
Or, you know… maybe not…
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Several months later I was talking to the interior designer we used on our remodel about cars. “I want a convertible,” I said.
“Oh, I had one of those,” she said. “It ruins your hair and you get a tan. Don’t get one.”
She was probably right.
Still…not enough to talk me out of the idea.
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In June 2010, our friend Andrew was in town for the Developers Conference and we invited him over for dinner. He arrived in his brother’s Audi convertible.
“What do you think of that car?” Darin asked.
“It looks nice.”
“But…”
“It’s still an Audi.”
“Why do you want an SL?”
“It looks better than the SLK,” I said. “I know that is a silly reason to buy a car.”
In fact, given what I know about the car industry, the civil engineering industry, and the coming oil shock, there is no good reason ever to buy a car. The US energy policy has been built around keeping gas cheap and plentiful, in the face of all rational metrics. I sometimes wonder if we’re going to get it triply bad when the hammer comes down.
On the other hand, Darin and I don’t buy cars all the time; we keep them until we drive them into the ground. And being a locavore vegan is way better for your carbon footprint than what car you drive. (Seriously, if you ever consume meat and you so much as breathe the words “carbon footprint” we need to have a serious talk.)
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Last year, once we’d finally moved back into the house, Darin said, “Are you still thinking about that car?”
“Yes.” I shrugged. “We need to get you a new car first.”
“I don’t need a new car.”
We bought Darin’s car new in January 1996. While we’ve taken good care of the insides of the mechanics, we’ve neglected the exterior. Two years ago I looked into getting his car a new paint job, and the investigation never went much beyond that. Several parts of the interior have started ripping or cracking. The interior of the console/armrest between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat is filled with an analog cell phone attached to the car, and that was some cool stuff when we bought this car, man.
He needs a new car.
Darin has a list of things he wants in a new car — he’d prefer electric, or at the very least a hybrid. And it must have keyless-go. “I don’t even know what car I’d get,” he said.
“That’s too bad. Because I totally know what car I’d get. And! I’ve been looking at used ones. Look, I know this isn’t rational. There’s nothing rational about getting this car. It’s completely wrong for our life. It’s completely wrong given that generally I have Click and Clack with me almost all the time. I don’t care, I still want one. I don’t want one so much that I need to have it today. We need to finish paying for the remodel first.”
The fact that I was still thinking about the car, though, was a Sign: since Darin and I take forever to move on big projects, we’re usually pretty set in our ways by the time we finally get going on them.
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Looking at Craigslist at the used cars was very daunting. I’ve never bought a used car. I’ve never sold any of my cars. Our main strategy is trade them in when we get a new one — yes, it’s not the most money you could possibly get for the car, but the buying and selling of cars is nerve-wracking. You know you’re getting taken.
A guy I know who buys expensive sports cars all the time told me, “Here’s what you do. You call up the local Mercedes dealer. You say, Here’s the car I want. Like, ‘I want a silver SL, three to four years old, with such-and-such options, and I’m willing to pay this much.’ The second they get that car in, they call you, you go in and buy it. That’s all you have to do. Do it at the dealer, though, so you get the extra warranty.”
After that conversation, I stopped looking at Craigslist and only looked at the list of cars the local Mercedes dealer had. I also checked out at their non-Mercedes cars, but not a lot. I was very set in my obsessions.
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Last Halloween, we were over at our friend A’s house. He showed me his brand new SLK 350, which replaced his older SLK. It looked insanely cool. It also looked much sexier than I remembered.
“They completely redesigned it this year,” he said. “And it’s got a ton of wonderful new features.”
“You didn’t want an SL?” I asked.
“No, why? This car is great.”
Hm. A was familiar with two-seater convertibles. If he was good with the SLK, perhaps I should look at the SLK again.
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About two months ago I went to the local Mercedes dealer. They had some used SLKs on the lot. I test-drove a 2009. Oh, that was nice. It had a few curious things, though, like no cup holders. (German engineers don’t understand the whole “cup holder” thing.) And the seat adjustment buttons were down near the floor on the side of the seat. And what the hell, they still have ashtrays?
“Germans smoke a lot,” said the salesman.
“So do the Japanese, and they’ve figured out no one wants these things.”
Seriously, Mercedes, hello: an ashtray is totally an add-on feature that should cost extra, perhaps in a “Smoker’s Package.” Feel free to charge smokers more; everyone else does. The vast majority of modern drivers would rather have a power outlet or a coin holder or something else entirely there. And no, I can’t just take out the cigarette lighter and stick a power cord in: the design of the cigarette lighter outlet is different such that normal lighter-outlet, so normal lighter-power-cords don’t work with them. Because Mercedes is filled with obnoxious, non-standards-loving engineers.
I asked about various features, and every time the salesman said, “That’s new to the 2012 model.”
After we finished playing around with the 2009, I said, “Okay, I’ll look at the 2012.”
Big mistake.
Huge.
The 2012 had a better shape! Its dashboard made more sense! The car adjustment buttons were where, you know, I could easily reach them! It had an attachment for my iPhone!
I took it for a test-drive. Oh no, I thought. It had better power, better handling, a better overall feel, and the dashboard was much, much better looking. Given how small the interior is, you’d better like your dashboard: you’re going to be looking at it a lot.
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I looked into getting a car loan. Rates are so cheap nowadays it barely makes sense to spend your own money. Hilariously, according to the bank, the SLK counts as a “green car” because of its MPG of 20/29. That is ridiculous. Man, do we have it easy in this country.
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A month ago went to the dealership to finally order a car, at least three years after the idea first hit me, so no one can accuse me of rushing into it. The salesman did several country-wide searches on various color combinations to see if there was anything available right away. “If not, it takes about four months to make one to order.”
“Four months is a long time.”
“So what color do you want?” Darin said.
“Um…Red.”
Darin wore his patented “You can’t tell what I’m thinking right now” look, which always tells me exactly what he’s thinking.The salesman finally found one that had the options we wanted, along with lots of options we didn’t want (Rear spoiler? Do I look like a 17-year-old boy?). We decided to go ahead and get it — more expensive than we had planned on, but isn’t that always the way. It took a few days to arrive from whichever dealer actually had it.
The car
Simon was dancing around with excitement. The last time we bought a new car was two weeks before he was born. “Everyone in my class gets new cars all the time!” he said.
“You know, this is a two-seater,” I said. “This is Mommy’s car. You’re not going to ride in this a lot.”
Simon nodded. “I know. But in ten years it’s going to be my car and I’m going to drive it all the time!”
Darin looked at me.
“Trust me, I have not promised him that. He’ll be twenty years old. There is no way he’s driving this car when he’s twenty.”
“It’s going to be my car!” Simon sang.
Simon with the car he is never, ever going to drive.
As we walked out of the dealership, I saw a recently-arrived red 2009 SLK. “Oh, can you believe that?” I asked. “If they’d had that when I came in here, I would never have looked at the 2012 models.”
“Live in the now,” Darin said.
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When I went to pick the car up, the salesman spent about an hour going over all of the electronic features in the car. He made me go through all of the menus, which confused the heck out of me after a while. On the way home, I discovered the Navigation system (with Voice Control…trust me, it’s no Siri) kept talking over the radio to give me driving instructions. I couldn’t figure out how to find places on the map. The radio had eleventy-hundred different bands.
There was only one thing to do: RTFM. Or manuals, as the case was.
Who knew there’d be studying?
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The worst feature of the car is clearly the element the German designers did not want to put into it: the cup holder. The 2009 model didn’t even have cup holders. This one has two cup holders built into the center console.
Well, kinda.
Sophia and I bought two tall hot chocolates at the Starbucks one day and I said, “You can’t drink this in my car.” She said, “Okay.”
We put the cups in the cup holders and…oh goodness. That was a tight fit. The cups were ever so slightly bent away from one another, the fit was so tight.
“You really cannot drink your hot chocolate in this car,” I said. “Because if you pull your cup out, we will have hot chocolate all over this car.”
I guess they designed this car for two cans of soda. Or something. I don’t drink soda.
My Nissan coffee thermos does not fit in one of these holders either. Sigh.
The cup holder with a single tall coffee in it. Not much space for cup #2.
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The best feature of the SLK is the AIRSCARF™. The AIRSCARF™ is a vent built into the back of the headrest that will blow warm air on you if you drive on a cold day with the top down. In fact, no matter what the temperature in the car is set to, the AIRSCARF™ blows warm air on you.
Somebody Darin works with recently bought a 1991 VW Cabriolet for $1000 and then put another $1500 into it to fix it up. A friend of mine bought a Cabriolet, possibly in 1991; I wondered if it could be the exact same car. Darin asked her how fixing up her car was coming along.
“Well, I really thought I was going to like my car,” she said, “but it doesn’t have an AIRSCARF™ so now I think it sucks.”
When Darin told me this story, I said, “Please tell me she was kidding.”
He waited a few seconds before saying, “Yes, she was kidding.”
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The first time I drove the car with the top down, I realized that anyone driving near me would be able to tell what seriously terrible taste in music I have. So I can only listen to NPR and “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” when I have the top down.
I’ll deal with the embarrassment.
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The lights are automatic. I know this is standard on most cars now. Surprisingly, the windshield wipers are also automatic. Is this a thing now? I couldn’t believe it when they just came on during a sudden burst of rain. It’s cool when the wipers suddenly speed up to match the flow of rain.
I drove to Oakland with my friend Rob, who spent much of the time figuring out the system that operates the radio, map system, etc. We agreed that the UI is terrible. “What, are there only three guys on the planet who can do electronic system UI and they’re already working in this area?” I said.
Rob figured out how to turn off the navigation voice that announces every upcoming turn (and announced it three times: once when you’re a mile off, once when you should prepare to do it, and once as you’re doing it. Turns out you have to hit “mute” while she’s talking. Every time you use the mapping system, you have to mute the voice. That’s just plain annoying, in case anyone in Stuttgart cares.
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So, it’s been a month with the new car. The first week I had the car it was bright and sunny out. It’s been cold and rainy ever since. As a result, I have used the AIRSCARF™ more frequently than I would have guessed at the outset.
It gets much better gas mileage than the Honda Odyssey and I drive it a lot more than the Odyssey, so I’m actually using less gas. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. (I’ve filled up the Odyssey only once in the past month, as a matter of fact.)
It’s fun being able to have a new car.
In another ten years, when it’s time to buy another new car, cars will either be unimaginably cool or completely nonexistent, so I’m having fun with this one now.
I think I need a longer ride in your new car. 🙂