"Dreams that you dream really do come true."
--Yip Harburg
--Yip Harburg
Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey
It's been a day of emotional contrasts, a ride up and down the proverbial roller coaster. It was one of those days that was both memorable and forgettable.
After falling asleep about 1:30 this morning, I rolled out of bed just before 7 am. I don't make a habit of this kind of schedule, at least not since my 20's. This was Raiders week, and my Chiefs were kicking off at 7:05. I figured I would have time for a nap later. Oh, the best-laid plans...
The game was a bust. The Chiefs iffy style of play finally caught up to them. I knew they wouldn't go undefeated, that a loss was inevitable. But to the Raiders??? It was worse than a root canal, or a colonoscopy, and just as uncomfortable to sit through. But, it's just one game. Last year (Super Bowl year, remember?) they won their first four games, then lost four of the next six, and almost their unicorn quarterback to boot. This year, it appears that NFL defenses have cracked the code of the Chiefs' offense, and some sloppy play at key positions has exacerbated the problems. But, there are 11 games left, and the hope, not yet ephemeral, exists that they will still win out. Clearly, there is work to be done before they play the Bills next Monday. Or Tuesday.
But that was the low point of the day. After losing to the Raiders, things could go only one direction.
About two weeks ago, Cheryl and I were on our way to Costco when we drove by a local mega-car dealer. Parked along the edge, visible from the road was a beautiful blue Ford Mustang. It had been there for awhile and for me, hard NOT to notice. As we drove by, I said wistfully, "My Mustang's still there."
Cheryl, who really should know better, asked, "Want to go drive it?"
"Don't tease."
But she was serious. We had agreed that when she landed her next job, we would go get her a car, one that as she described it, would "wrap me in a cocoon of luxury." Yes, she can turn a phrase. That day, she noted that she hadn't decided what she wanted, so it was okay for me to look.
There's no redder flag one could wave in front of an old bull then that one.
As it turned out, that car was a base model, almost totally bereft of any attractive options. They wouldn't meet my price, so we walked away. But, I kept looking. Earlier this week, after systematically searching the inventories of every car dealer on O'ahu, I found what might have been The One. It was blue, of course, and was the four-cylinder with the two-stage turbo, and outfitted with every option except the on-board bartender. I had driven the GT with that big honkin' 8-cylinder engine at the LA Auto Show a couple of years ago. It was a beast, guaranteed to raise the testosterone level of any red-blooded male. But it was also way too expensive. Of course. The one by Costco was a 6-cylinder, and while very smooth was decidedly mild-mannered. So when the opportunity came to drive a 4-banger, I jumped.
Let me backtrack here a bit. I remember when the Mustang first came out. I was 9 years old, and desperate to own one. The best one, IMHO, was the 1969 Mach One equipped with a massive 428 cubic inch power plant. It sounded like an earthquake and ran like a jet fighter. But by the time I reached the age where I could buy and drive one, Ford had begun to deliver a bunch of also-ran models upon which they should have been ashamed to place that pony logo. Finally, in the 21st century, Ford regained their senses, and completely redesigned the car, giving it back the face and body that made it such a drool-worthy machine in its youth. Despite the passage of time, my desire for a Mustang had not wavered since that bespectacled little kid who couldn't understand why Daddy didn't want one. The dream never died.
Honolulu Ford is, like many such businesses that exist on an island, squeezed on a too-small lot with two entrances, one of which was blocked by road repair. I managed to find my way into the used cars, and saw a cluster of the Ponies parked together. I got out of my vehicle and checked them out. Most were the big GT's, but two were the fours. I went inside, finding out that in this COVID environment, I needed an appointment. The salesman was accommodating however, and after some conversation and making copies of my license and insurance card, he gave me the keys and wished me a good test drive.
I got out of the lot and started along the complex path that would lead me to the freeway. As I drove, I noted, perhaps grumpily, that the car drove like almost all the four bangers I had ever been in. But it was perky. I turned onto the ramp for H-1, and as soon as the coast was clear, I pushed the gas to the floor. After a small lag, the turbo kicked in and the car fairly flew up the ramp and onto the freeway. The acceleration was amazing. Driving along, I discovered that the power was there when I needed to pass or jet into an open slot in another lane. I was having fun, and actually drove all the way to Pearl City. As long as I was there, I decided to see if it would fit in the narrow side of the carport, not a foregone conclusion by any stretch. It did fit, although requiring a bit of tactical planning to be able to open the long door and exit the car.
After taking a few pictures, I got back in the car and drove back to the dealership. The salesman didn't seem to mind that I had been gone for awhile. So, we talked for awhile about prices and financing, and after some searching on his inventory, he came back with another sheet of paper. He had, he said, a brand new car, a virtual copy of the demo I had just driven upon which they could lay some big discounts. As it turned out, by the time he had included the dealer discount, the COVID discount, a little more for my status as a vet AND retired FBI, the price he gave me was almost ten grand off the MSRP. It was, as they say, an offer I couldn't refuse.
I took the information back to Cheryl, who after some lengthy discussion, agreed to let me proceed. She's always been tough on me, because I'm the kind of guy who needs that kind of discipline. But layered within those high expectations is that kind of love that only happens to a man once in his life. She wants me to fulfill my gifts and talents, but she also wants me to be happy.
I called the credit union and arranged for the loan. They gave me a 2.9% rate, which Cheryl was sure Ford could beat. And beat it they did.
So today, we discovered how hard COVID has made buying a car. Last night, Cheryl dug up, scanned and emailed a plethora of docs to me, which I passed on to the salesman. Then, he told me that we didn't need to come all the way there, that he would be delighted to bring the car to us.
This just got better and better.
The biggest hurdle today was a long drawn-out battle with a contract signing app. Finally, I told the finance guy to just print out the docs and bring them over with the car, as I had to work today, and the clock was against me. Finally -- FINALLY -- he pulled up in front of the house with the car -- our car -- all detailed and shined to within an inch of its life. I stepped out of the house and the sight of the car in that state took my breath away. It was the most beautiful machine I had ever seen.
We went back into the house and spent about 30 minutes signing a rather extensive number of documents. Then we went back out and he spent some time showing me some of the options I would need immediately. Of course, being a guy, he knew I would be all over the owners manual this evening.
Cheryl was actually the first to drive it, just a short trip down to the end of the block and back. But I was already running late and I had a shower to take. The salesman took the trade-in back with him, and Cheryl took the Santa Fe to Sam's for groceries.
Oh, did I tell you? The new refrigerator arrived yesterday. So it had to be filled with food.
I got ready for work, closed up the house, and got into the car. I had taken my charging cord and a couple of other things out of the SUV -- forgetting my sunglasses. But the windows are tinted, and it wasn't too bad. So, I got behind the wheel, pressed the start button, and the engine rumbled to life. After one last deep breath, I pulled out of the carport and onto the street.
It was a marvelous commute. It drove smoothly and when I needed the power on the freeway, it was there in spades. I drove in on Nimitz and Ala Moana, and then glided onto Kalakaua and through Waikiki. This is my normal route to Diamond Head, but today was different; special. To my right, the ocean rolled waves over the breakwater and up onto the beach. People were walking on the sidewalk balancing surfboards on their heads. The sun was out, and life was perfect. I was cruisin' Waikiki in a Mustang.
Duuuude.
I got to work only a little delayed and as I walked into the Warning Point, I couldn't stop from turning around and taking one last look. What had once been a distant dream had finally become real.
<sigh>
Yeah, I've enslaved us to six years of payments, and I have to keep working until this car is paid off. But at this moment, I am enjoying myself hugely.
And somewhere inside of me, a nine-year-old boy is cheering.
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