The unlasting love of shiny things

When we got the red Corolla, it was the best car I ever had. It was certified pre-owned, so we got what we got–standard transmission, crank-handle windows, no key fob. I owned it and drove it for a quarter of my life.

It was showing its age. The Florida sun did a number on the paint job. Love bugs pitted the paint on the hood with acidic pock marks. I’d slid into the driver’s seat so much that the molding next to the door wouldn’t reseat itself. When I met people who saw my car, I was embarrassed. It would be more at home on Sanford and Son than anywhere respectable.

My Corolla, if it were a sitcom

But it was a Corolla with 156,000 miles on it, which meant I might be able to drive it another five or six years before we started making what amounts to car payments to keep up with the repairs.

A few weeks ago, we traded it for a 2020 Tucson with all the toys–backup camera, power windows, push-button ignition, integrated bluetooth. If I read the manual, I’d probably find out it makes sandwiches.

I should be thrilled to have a newer, better car. Instead, I’m struggling a little with getting rid of a perfectly sound (and paid-for) car. I can justify it all I want, but the decision came down to vanity. A perfectly good car has probably been dismantled for parts because I was vain. Although it’s not one of the greater sins, it gives me pause about other decisions.

There’s wrong with the decision we made. We can afford to do this. And though I’m asserting I could probably drive the car several more years, I don’t know that for sure.

I’m still not entirely comfortable that I did the right thing. It has me wondering at the value of shiny things. It has me holding off on buying the next replica jersey or that Jets hat with the new rebranding.

We live in a consumer society that I grandparents would shake their heads at. I have a lot of perfectly good clothes. I have more baseball caps than I can wear. What do I possibly need with another? If I don’t buy it, how is my life diminished in any way? And if I bought it, how long until I want the next shiny thing?

These are all good questions to ask.

Published by

Chris Hamilton

Chris Hamilton is a writer trying to make the next step, to go from pretty good to freaking outstanding. He's devoting himself to doing the work and immersing himself in writery pursuit. He also hasn't quite mastered this whole Powerball thing, and still has a pesky addiction to food, clothing, and shelter, so he has to work, too. Blech.

Leave a comment