 |
Dec 31, 2006 - 11:51 PM |
|
 |
Taken for a Ride |
|
|
Forewarning, this is going to be both somewhat angsty and tl;dr on top of that. It may be worth the read if you know nothing about the wonderful world of being in the market for a car.
It already seems to me like I've been driving forever, but I was only issued my license six months ago, almost to the day. Almost everybody starts so young. Sixteen year olds are always there every time I drop into the DMV, father or mother or both by their side the day of them turning old enough to qualify for a permit. I was one of them too.
I first received a permit on September 8th, 1999. I remember this date very specifically because not only had I just turned 16 two days prior, but it was also the day I got my excitable dorky hands of FFVIII on the day of it's release. I was giddy about this upcoming day. Anticipation wasn't the word, it was stronger than that, it was my singular view for the entire summer, September the 8th. Get the game I'd been gay for since it was announced, but, much more important to what I'm getting at here, take my first steps towards getting behind the wheel, first steps towards adult responsibility.
What my parents provided for me to help me get my permit includes the following: a ride to the DMV. I picked up the study booklet myself, studied entirely on my own, paid the fee with my own money. It should of probably been expected from having people around who would hardly assist me in this aspect, people who were content to let me just glide through my teenage years on autopilot, demand nothing out of me other than attending church three days a week, who taught me nothing of the importance of education and who planted no thought or hope of college in my head, that after I aced the test, for the entirety of the time my permit was valid, I was not given a single driving outing.
Time passed and I never bothered renewing my efforts towards driving. I got to know my city by bus and public transit took me everywhere I needed to go. I got older, I got a job, I moved out of my parents house. It wasn't until the end of 2005 that driving seemed would become a necessity soon.
At the time, I was approaching my third year of working the graveyard shift at a local Target which was within walking distance. I was growing tired of working retail, tired of the hours, and I didn't relish the thought of another holiday season. My roommates at the time were my long time friend Jeremy and his girlfriend Amanda. He and I were in the same boat. He was without a license himself and he'd been working McDonalds for a number of years. He was so tired of it that he actually rolled the dice with a temp service to find some sort of factory job, and he did at a company called Warn.
Warn is a winch making company, multi ton pulling devices you mount to a truck or ATV. Because Jeremy's an exceptional worker, he got hired on from being a temp at the three month mark. Because his word pulled some weight, when he vouched for me as a reference at my job interview there, it counted for a lot and I got hired on despite having no mechanical background or aptitude.
When the couple first suggested to me to go for a position there, my main concern was getting to and from with no car. Jeremy was given a ride and picked up by Amanda each day and since we all lived together, they assured me that I could ride along as well. It was agreed that I would take steps towards becoming independent of them in the meantime. Not very long after starting at Warn, I got the news that Amanda was pregnant. My indefinite time frame to take care of my own shit just got a definite deadline.
The plan was that while Jeremy would get his permit first and Amanda would be the licensed driver with him, I would go through the same cycle with him once he was licensed. It still dumbfounds me how friends with busy lives of their own, who are preparing to start a family would make out time to give me that helping hand where my own parents failed to do so.
My first car was a 1990 Subaru Loyale wagon bought for 800 dollars off of a friend's mother. It was dented and scratched to shit. The heat and ac didn't work. I found out later that, when it rained, the seal of the driver's side door wasn't one hundred percent and water would leak directly onto my left leg. I didn't have any problems with it running, however, until just recently when after coming off of a highway exit and hitting a red light, accelerating did nothing when it came time to go again and there was a heavy amount of steam coming from under the hood.
The saga of the death of this car goes like this. After it broke down this first time, I got a tow back to my place. After some time left sitting, the car starts again. I decide to try and drive it into work the next day. It makes it to work fine. The drive home is fine until I begin to pull in to park. I can tell it's just starting to act up again. I walk to my front door and the weather is below thirty degrees that night. When I put the key in the lock, the lock seems a bit stiff. I struggle with it and my key snaps off in the door.
Because it's so cold out and because there's no telling when my current roommate would be home, because my phone is about to die and I can't call anybody, I decide to chance it and drive to a friend's place. Of course, I brake down on the way. Pushed my car into a parking lot and walked the rest of the way. Walked back the next morning to try and start it. No dice. Got a tow back to my friends, he has some family who knows cars who would take a look at it. But I also give it another go to try to start it, and it turns over. I see if I can't get it home with Jeremy driving behind me in case I do brake down a third time, which, of course, I do.
While Jeremy is carting me back and forth to work with him all week, I finally get some people from work as a favor to look at things to identify the problem. Turns out it was my head gasket that was blown. Turns out my radiator wasn't holding water because of it and coolant got into my oil. Turns out that Subarus are notoriously hard to work on because the everything's packed so tight that any work with the engine requires for it to be pulled out entirely and the labor costs are stupidly high. And it turns out that with a car of this age with this problem, it's not worth it to fix. R.I.P., my Loyale.
Now I am left to find something new. This is where my frustrations and concerns multiply. I could seek out another cheepo piece of junk but I had seen my older siblings go through this pattern of waiting for something unreliable to break down, picking up a new junker, and I didn't want to be stuck in that pattern. I made a decision to at least give it a try to get something financed.
Walking into a dealership for the first time was a bit intimidating for me but I was determined to keep a calm level head about things knowing that I was primarily looking for information. I wanted to know what was feasible for me, what sort of credit rating I could get, and I knew that I probably wouldn't be walking out of the place with a vehicle. I wasn't going to be pressured into something I couldn't afford.
I give them my info to run my credit, I tell them what sort of payments I can afford. They have something, an 03 Chevy Cavilar that they think they can get me financed on. The numbers they come back with are too high. I tell them that I can't budge from a certain amount as a max and they come back with redone numbers that are doable. As much as I wasn't expecting to bring anything home with me that day, I was already exasperated over once again relying on my friends and the bus. I needed something, I needed it soon, I wanted it reliable, and though it would make things tight, I didn't anticipate getting any better offers and I could make these payments.
The one sticking point was insurance. Full coverage's required for anything financed and what I was paying on the Subaru was liability only. I told them that if I couldn't get insurance in the range I was covered already with the payments they wanted from me already, I could not take this car. Getting this car was situational upon the insurance payments. We called what was the company I went through at the time and the rate to switch over to that car was 240 more from what I was paying. Obscene. We checked some other places online that were even higher.
They told me that they'd try to check things out with an agent from Farmers who happened to be there. He took all my info and came back with a miracle. 120 a month for full coverage. I was beside myself. A down payment, monthly payments, insurance, even a very low APR. I decided to take the plunge.
I've been off of work this whole week as a part of a Christmas break. It hasn't been relaxing in the slightest. My nerves are still racked over the prospect. I've been diligent of taking care of my remaining responsibilities of the deal, my end is taken care of and I'm told the rest of what I need is mainly coming through the mail. For that reason, I've been checking it daily. That's when I got some alarming news from Farmers.
"Page 2
Reason for cancellation or non-renewal
Reason for the action indicated on Page 1 of this notice is as follows:
One year of licensed driving experience is required prior to being issued in our preferred market. Our records indicate that Nathan Stegall does not meet this requirement. Please contact your agent for assistance."
I was shaking, I was so mad. The planets had to align perfectly for things this to work, this is a wrench in the gears. First of all, I got sold something that I didn't qualify for which all parties involved understood was a dealbreaker. I was straight out lied to, lied to my face. In no uncertain terms, I was asked by the agent how long I have been driving for and I answered six months and he sold me insurance for a car that I would be driving off the lot based on that insurance. Now I get some bullshit in the mail telling me, "You may arrange for continuous protection by contacting your Farmers agent promptly. Your agent is authorized to continue your insurance in the Mid-Century insurance company."
Uh, isn't that called a GODDAMED BAIT AND SWITCH MOTHERFUCKERS?
It's less of a deal that I got the rug pulled out from under me and more important that I don't have this car repossessed, lose the down payment, and shoot my credit to shit because the financing company finds out that I've been dropped by my insurance before it ever got started.
I'm 23 years old. I should have graduated sometime around now in my life. I'm beyond frustration in being a late bloomer and learning these life lessons that should already be behind me, that I should of had some support on in my youth from parents that should of kept a better eye out for me landing on my feet.
Imagine the biggest, forlorn sigh you can and place it here. The powers that be owe me a streak of luck for 07. And speaking of New Years, I'm not doing a damned thing.
|
|
|
|
|
