Written by Michael Claxton
I knew the day would come. I had long been coasting on borrowed time. The paint was peeling on the hood. The automatic locks hadn’t worked in years. The “check engine” light was on, and so was the oil light. The last hubcap fell off last year. When the speedometer quit working, the accelerator lost a lot of horsepower. Since I was afraid to put it on the highway, I have just stayed in town for the past few months. I was running out of places to go in Searcy.
Still, after 23 years, it was hard to let go. We’d been through quite a bit together ever since I bought the Toyota when I was in graduate school. Every year, it had taken three or four trips home to Georgia. It had ferried students to Little Rock, Arkansas. It had made cross-country drives to Louisiana and Michigan. The Camry had reached 320,000 miles, though in the high-stakes game of vehicle endurance, that’s small potatoes.
It had become a standard topic of conversation. Friends would ask first how my mother was, and then how the car was doing. Complete strangers would walk up to me and inquire about the mileage. It had become a challenge to see just how long it would hold up. My car had become a point of pride, which is ironic because it did not look worth boasting about.
Change has never been easy for me. Owning the same car for nearly a quarter of a century is just the beginning. I’ve had the same hairstyle since high school and the same barber for 19 years. I’ve eaten the same lunch for two decades, including 16 grapes and 16 Town House crackers per day. My fashion sense is stuck in another era, and I still don’t have a smartphone. I follow the same routine most every day, to the point that a colleague told me that he was once headed to the breakroom and knew before going in that I was there. He recognized the predictable pattern in which I dried my hands with a paper towel after washing them.
In my defense, think of how exhausting it would be to come up with a new hand-drying technique every single time.
But this year has been a season of change. I reached a milestone birthday. I’ve buried several close friends this year. My doctor put me on a dramatic new diet. My dentist has me using a water pick. I even stopped taking the Sunday paper after years of loyalty. There is a rumor that I have gotten a tattoo, but that is a malicious lie.
So, having to give up my car was almost more than I could take. Especially since I couldn’t have chosen a worse time. New car prices are up. Used car prices are up. Inventory is down. Interest rates are high. Microchips are nowhere to be found.
But I plunged into the process anyway. I made the rounds of the dealerships and got advice from all my friends. I soon learned that everyone wants you to buy the same car they drive. I would have had to purchase 12 different models to make everyone happy.
My Camry was 2 years old when I bought it, and I always assumed I would buy another used one. But these days, used cars can cost as much as new. That’s why in September, I drove off the GMC lot with a 2022 Terrain. When I handed over the keys to my trade-in, I asked what would happen to it. The dealer looked down and shook his head. I thought it best not to pursue it further. I kept the last hubcap, which is hanging in my carport. I swore never to forget.
I enjoy my new car, though it’s taken some getting used to. The technology has changed since I last bought one. I still can’t remember which button to push to start it. I haven’t yet figured out how to keep the windshield wipers on without holding the knob down. I have no idea how to operate the touch screen.
The other day, I got in and saw a message. The screen said that it was dangerous to take my eyes off the road and asked me to touch “I agree.” It beeps when I get too close to another vehicle. To be honest, the car is a little preachy. But I have to make allowances for its youth. And it is nice to get back on the highway again.
Maya Angelou once said that without change, we wouldn’t have butterflies. I generally dislike change on principle. But I make exceptions for butterflies. And infants. And pay raises. And now, I guess, new cars.
