When to Say Goodbye to a Car

I've owned cars that I couldn't get rid of fast enough.  There was the 1973 VW Thing which had the speed and weather protection of a Conestoga wagon; a Porsche 924 with a failing clutch; and a tan 1997 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme...  Just because it was a tan Oldsmobile.  Each time, I had some regret selling the car for sentimental reasons.  But in all those cases, I knew it was time to say goodbye for practical reasons or because I had a more favorable option.  Usually both.  

Now it seems I'm again reaching the time to make that choice.  My 1999 Nissan Pathfinder, a truck that my wife and I have owned for over 11 years, is starting to break down in ways that make me question its reliability.  Normally I would just keep driving it until it died and then take the plates off it.  However, since my wife uses it to commute to the airport twice a month, where it sits for 4-5 days, I need a reliable car.

But at what point do I say goodbye to the Pathfinder?  It's a question that nags at me for two reasons:  First, it's an honest, capable SUV that's been a solid, reliable workhorse.  It has a real 4x4 transfer case with a mechanical linkage connected to both hi and lo drive ranges.  I've used it for camping, hauling lumber and tile, the occasional lawnmower, and even stuff to the dump or the Salvation Army.  Not that I really need all of the Pathfinder's capabilities, but it's nice having an old truck around when you need to just throw some stuff in the back of it and go.

The other reason is sentimental.  It's the first car my wife and I bought together.  Our son was two months old at the time and we were looking for more reliable transportation to replace Nicole's old Bronco II.  (Yes, there seems to be a pattern here...)  Over the years since then, we've taken the Pathfinder on trips to Iowa and all over Kansas and Missouri, racking up 140K miles in the process.  Through all that time it's been a reliable, faithful companion requiring nothing more than gas and occasional maintenance.

Until about three months ago...

The first sign of trouble was when the Pathfinder refused to start in my driveway.  It was towed to a local repair shop which discovered that the electronic ignition had failed.  Now lately it's been sputtering and losing power on the highway.  And in addition to whatever is causing that problem, I know I'm due for another round of tires, bakes, a transmission fluid service, and possibly new struts.  Added up, I have a nice down payment on a newer car.

To me, the time to say goodbye to a car is when the cost of repairs, other than routine maintenance, adds up to more than the value of the car.  Or when you know that the next $800 repair bill won't be your last and that you're about to spend more over the next year at the mechanic than you would making car payments.

I don't think I'm there yet--close--but not yet.  Besides, I'm doing yard work this weekend and have some home improvement project coming up, so I'll need an old truck to haul mulch/rock/lumber and miscellaneous supplies.      

A Tale of Two Cutlasses

I had to say goodbye to the Infiniti last week. There was too much wrong with it and I couldn't justify spending more to fix it than the car was worth. So I sold it and began a furious week of car shopping.

I spent Friday and Saturday looking at used cars in the $8-$12,000 range. It used to be you could find a decent five year old sedan with around 60K miles in that price range. Not anymore. Everything out there was either pushing 100K miles, a subcompact the size of a phone booth, or abused worse than Mel Gibson's girlfriend.

My wife and I upped our price range and began looking at minivans and crossovers. Maybe we could find something for her to drive and I'd drive our venerable Nissan Pathfinder. I was happy with this idea because I like the Pathfinder. It's a good, capable vehicle that's comfortable to drive. An honest SUV with a mechanical 4WD transfer-case and legit off-road chops, it's been dead reliable for the eight years we've owned it.

But the more we looked, the more we realized there was nothing in our price range we wanted. Eventually we upped our price range again and looked at a Saturn Outlook, which is the twin of the GMC Acadia. In 2007 GM got out of the minivan market and began building the Acadia and Outlook crossovers. Both vehicles have been homeruns for GM and it's easy to see why. The Outlook is like Goldilocks--it's neither too big or too small, but just right for our family. We almost took it home that night.

Then fate intervened in the form of a Cutlass Supreme.

Just before we went back to buy the Outlook, my grandmother offered to loan us her car, a 1997 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme four door sedan with 76K miles. I drove it home and we took it the kids out to dinner in it that night. Over margaritas and Espinaca dip we decided borrowing the car would be a good stopgap while we saved up some more money.

The car has a few bumps and bruises from parking lot mishaps, but is otherwise solid and in good condition. So good in fact, I'm thinking of buying it. It appeals to my cheapskate side and I also have a soft spot for Cutlasses, having driven one in high school. My philosophical side wonders if the two Cutlasses are a a metaphor for my life. The 1968 coupe I drove in high school was more cool while the 1997 sedan is more practical and family oriented.

As my wife would say, I'm probably over analyzing things again. In reality the two Cutlasses are as different from each other as Jimmie Johnson the football coach and Jimmie Johnson the race car driver. Both have the same name, but are totally different.

Monday, when I drove the Cutlass to work, "Roll With It" by Steve Winwood came on the radio just as I hit the highway. The song was popular in 1988 when I had the first Cutlass. And it felt good driving and listening to it in this Cutlass. Maybe the two are not so different.

But either way, sometimes you just roll with it, baby.

Buick Regal, Sports Sedan

I'm having a hard time saying Buick Regal and sports sedan in the same sentence with a straight face. It's an oxymoron, but that's what GM is positioning the Regal as for its relaunch next year.

To be fair the new Regal will be based on the Opel Insignia, which has won accolades in Europe. Buick is also undertaking a huge effort to remake itself, much like Cadillac did ten years ago. And the new LaCrosse makes me think they're on to something.

Still, to position the car to compete with Acura, BMW and Infiniti, and use a stodgy nameplate like the Regal, is like Country musician Taylor Swift changing her name to Blanche or Patsy. Yes, there's a history there, but the connotation is not attractive. Buick has better names for a sports sedan like the Wildcat or Gran Sport. The Regal hasn't been cool since the Grand National came out 25 years ago, and people who own those cars don't call them Regals.

I hope Buick is successful. But to be successful, I think they need an attitude car, or halo car as it's known in the industry. Something like the Grand National that will draw Acura customers into the showroom and leave with a new Regal or LaCrosse.

In Praise of the Beater

Henry David Thoreau wrote about the futility of acquiring material wealth. If he were alive today, his argument would apply to cars as well. Thoreau would be appalled with our car culture, shunning it for public transportation. But if he had to drive, I’m sure he would own a beater.

A beater is the car equivalent of a horse at a glue factory. Its value fluctuates depending on how much gas is in the tank. Usually people who drive beaters are a flat tire away from permanent bus ridership. But not always. Sometimes a person drives a beater because they like the car too much to part with it. Or a person may view car payments with the same disdain Thoreau had for paying taxes. Aspiring race car drivers or people restoring a car drive beaters so they can spend money on their other car. Celebrities sometimes drive beaters to blend in anonymously. Sometimes the person driving the car in front of you, with a bumper sticker that says “My other car is a Porsche,” really does own a Porsche.

Most of the cars I owned were beaters. My hand-me-down Olds Cutlass and the VW Thing qualify. I also had a Buick Century which was an especially good beater; one I took for granted until I sold it. The Buick was roomy, comfortable, the air conditioning worked and it got great gas mileage. It wore peeling paint, a GM factory option at the time, and no hubcaps. When I drove it, traffic parted for me like I was Moses at the Red Sea.

A few years ago, the Buick began ringing up large repair bills. I decided I’d had enough and bought a brand new Hyundai Sonata. The Sonata was a great car. I liked the styling, which was criticized for looking like a funky Korean Jaguar, and liked rowing the Porsche licensed Tiptronic gearbox. Compared to the Buick, the Sonata was a joy to drive and in two years of ownership, nothing ever went wrong.

After a while, driving a new car began to wear on me. At work, I parked on the street downtown and mysterious scuffs would appear. My kids spilled milk and Teddy Grahams in the backseat. I realized I was leading a life of quiet desperation and car payments, so I put the Sonata up for sale and began looking for another beater.

I looked at Hondas and Toyotas, but the ones in my price range were shot to hell or looked like rejects from “The Fast and the Furious”. I looked at GM cars, but couldn’t bring myself to own another wobbly land yacht. One day I stumbled across a ten year-old Infiniti I30 with less than a hundred thousand miles on it. I remembered it was the same basic car as the Nissan Maxima but better looking. Curious to why it was in my price range, I called the owner who informed me it had slight hail damage. Two hours later, I brought it home.

The Infiniti is too nice to be described as a beater. Everything works and I wouldn’t hesitate to drive it on a two thousand mile road trip. It’s more rewarding to drive than the Sonata and has leather seats and a sunroof. I don’t mind parking on the streets or in the sun. I don’t cringe anymore when I hear, “Uh oh, Daddy! I spilled!”. And even though it’s black, I don’t feel the insatiable need to keep it washed. But it does clean up well and I’m not ashamed to take my wife out in public in it.

For me the Infiniti is the best of both worlds. Thoreau would not approve. But he might appreciate it, if he knew it saved me from the quiet desperation of car payments.