So here's the thing. I hate car shopping. I mean, at first I think I really, really like it. There's all the research into finding the right car, looking at all the websites, blah, blah, blah. Then 12 hours later I realize that looking for the "right" car is like looking for a walnut in a big pile of poop. I'm just so tired of going to look at a "nice car with good body" and walking up to a vehicle that has rust and dents all over it. Ok, I'm picky and I know it, but c'mon. I wish I wasn't so nice sometimes. I firmly believe my gift is to find some of the most misrepresented vehicles advertised. If you ever need to find a dud, give me a call. I can sniff them out with the best of them.
My problem is that I place a great deal of pressure on myself to find the perfect vehicle. It has to have the ideal blend of fantastic shape, low kms, great features all for a price that comes up only once a lifetime. The problem is that car really does only come up once in a lifetime (and it was about 4 weeks ago but I missed it). Essentially I'm a heroin addict looking for the high of the first hit. Every time I sit down at my computer I start slapping my arm, my eyes start to twitch and I start grinding my teeth: "C'mon Baby! Make me feel something!"
What drives me crazy is how much I can let myself be defined by a vehicle. I oscillate between feeling happy and content with driving older vehicles all my life and lusting after something quite new and shiny with options that delight the senses. And I think I've noticed that I'm drawn to the latter when something else in my life is going poorly. It's like the idea of driving a new vehicle will complete me more. Apparently I've learned nothing from human history.
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