A Car Adventure

A portion of Highway 36 between Denver and Boulder collapsed, and suddenly, my lovely remote commute on 96 swarmed with commuters trying to avoid the traffic.

Thursday. I drove to work on my normal route when the person in front of me slowed to a stop. I had a lot of distance, so I also gradually stopped. Unfortunately, the person behind me wasn’t as attentive. She tried, but alas, too late. Crash. Rear ended.

We drove to the side of the road. She apologized and felt absolutely mortified. I reassured her that everything was fine because we were both safe. We exchanged information, and she called the police. Since no airbags had deployed, and it seemed like we could both still drive our cars, the police decided not to come to the site. They told us to file an accident report on our own.

She asked me if I was a climber. She had massive arms, Choco shoes, and a climbing gear necklace. My car displayed a collection of climbing bumper stickers. I wore Tevas and a Joshua Tree T-shirt. Though I looked the part, I had to tell her, sadly, I was not.

Information exchanged, Mort still seemed to be in acceptable driving condition. I drove away. Immediately, I questioned the wisdom of my decision. Going over a certain speed produced a set of terrifying noises, and going under a certain speed produced a completely new set of the same. Heart pumping violently, I patted Mort and told him we would be O.K. And we were. We made it to my place of work safe and sound.

I filed the reports, called my boyfriend to pick me up from work that evening, and went about my day. My insurance company told me a tow truck would pick up my car and deliver it to an auto repair shop I requested. At the end of the day, Mort still sat in the parking lot. I called the insurance company. Evidently. the tow company reported that my car had been towed. I explained to my insurance company that I was, in fact, staring at my car, which was still very much in the parking lot. The person on the phone apologized and assured me my car would be towed that night. Luckily, it was.

I got a rental car that weekend, a Nissan Sentra. It had Bluetooth and a backup camera, luxuries my 2007 Nissan Versa never had. I visited the auto repair shop, did paperwork, called the insurance company, and waited. The next Friday, I tried calling the auto repair place. The person working on my car was unavailable. I called the insurance company.

I didn’t think the damage to my car was terrible—it was nothing more than a fender bender. The airbags didn’t even deploy. I drove away from the accident.

The insurance company thought differently. According to market value, the cost to repair the damages exceeded the price of the car. I learned what that means: Totaled. Even if the damage appears minor. Totaled. Mort, my car of 12 years, 2 blog posts, 144,000 miles. Totaled. I cried. I was shocked. The woman on the other end of the phone patiently and kindly walked me through my next steps. She emailed me everything I needed to do. I couldn’t wait to get off the phone. It was so hard not to rage at that kind and understanding bearer of bad news.

I called my mom, and I cried. My boyfriend drove me home from work, and I cried. That weekend, I looked at used cars, and I cried.

Then, like an angel from the sky, I saw another silver 2012 Nissan Versa for sale. I instantly brightened. Then, I reminded myself to be reasonable and responsible and not tempted by nostalgia. I wouldn’t buy another Nissan Versa unless it was truly the best car. Regardless, I now knew cars like my beloved Mort were available. My spirits lifted.

I messaged an acquaintance with car knowledge and asked him for advice on my findings. Generously, he sent me a couple of his own recommendations. I searched on CarGurus and AutoTrader, but the links he sent me came from Craigslist. Not the place I’d expect to find good used cars, but I started searching around Craigslist, and found a few I liked.

Happily, I found too many cars I liked. I didn’t know how to filter them down. I needed to be more picky. I wanted a car for under $5000 because that was about how much I got from the insurance company for Mort -rest his wheels. I wanted a car under or around 100,000 miles because more than that was likely to wear out. I wanted a car that was newer than 2010 because of the upgrade. With these criteria, the list became manageable.

My rental was due back that Wednesday. My boyfriend offered to drive me around after that, but I didn’t want to take advantage of him for too long. On Monday, my car-knowledgeable friend told me he’d be available Tuesday to help me look for cars. At first, I told him I couldn’t. I had work, I hadn’t done enough research, and I don’t like planning things on such short notice. Then, I realized the perfection of the opportunity. Waiting wouldn’t help. I took Tuesday off of work.

Monday night, I feverishly researched cars. I found a few I wanted to try and some auto dealers I wanted to visit. Tuesday morning, I called the numbers to check their availability. Almost half the cars had already sold, which disheartened me, but still left another half. My friend showed up at my house. He reviewed my list and vetoed a couple based on his research. We had our list. We left on our adventure.

First, we visited the place furthest away, Hauser and Son Autos in Longmont, CO. On the drive, we chatted and caught up. I relished the novelty of a day outside my routine.

The first leg of our journey didn’t start off well. We arrived at the address and couldn’t find the shop despite circling the block. I called to ask for directions and learned that the auto shop owner wasn’t even there! He was 45 minutes away! He gave us directions, and we found the place, but we had 45 minutes to kill. I bought my friend lunch for his trouble.

Back to the shop. The owner was an older German gentleman named Konrad. He had a heavy accent. He opened his garage for us, in which sat 7 cars, all in beautiful condition. To my infinite delight, one of them was a 2008 Nissan Versa. The one we’d come to see, a 2010 Ford Fiesta, was parked in the middle of the garage. Konrad moved the cars out and freed the Fiesta. We gave it a test drive.

My friend walked me through basic tests. He had me break and accelerate abruptly. On a relatively straight stretch of road with no other cars around and a speed limit of about 60, he told me to take my hands off the wheel to see if the car drifted. He made me check all the googahs: windshield wipers, air conditioning, heat, and lights. When we got back, we did a walk around and checked the tires.

My first impression: a nice car, but there were too many buttons, and I didn’t like the steering wheel.

We test-drove another car in the garage, a 2012 Kia Rio. It had a massive crack in the windshield but was otherwise in wonderful condition. We ran it through the hoops. I couldn’t decide which I liked more. I wanted to test drive the Versa, but my friend had an interview, so we decided to leave it at that. As we left the shop, Konrad told us, “I think you’ll be back, yes?”

We went to my friend’s interview. I waited outside, called my mom and told her about the cars. At the time, I leaned towards the Kia Rio.

When my friend finished, we headed to our next stop. I was reminded of the phrase “chop shop.” The car we’d come to test was a Subaru something or other. It was in reasonable condition but missed little bits and pieces. I didn’t get very far on my test drive. It had a CVT transmission, somewhere between an automatic and a stick. I’m glad I tried it, but I knew as soon as I started driving that I would do more damage to the car as I learned to drive a CVT than would be worth the purchase. The place gave me ooky vibes, so I didn’t want to test drive any other cars.

We drove to the next destination: a posh Subaru dealership with a Nissan Versa. The salesman greeted us with all the salesman charm and gimmick. He said he’d sold the car I wanted not an hour before we arrived. We looked through their database together in his posh office to see if anything else fit my criteria. I knew from my research nothing else did, but I indulged him anyway. He found one at another dealership I might consider and made us wait while he “called up his colleague there.” I gave him my contact information in case anything changed, but by then, I knew in my heart that Konrad was right; we were going back.

I called Konrad and told him we could make it there by 6 p.m., right when he normally closes. He said he’d meet us there. He had the paperwork for the Kia Rio ready when we arrived, but plot twist: I changed my mind. I wanted the Ford Fiesta.

In a major oversight, I forgot my checkbook! I couldn’t drive the car away, but I signed the paperwork and told Konrad I’d be back the next day. We shook hands.

My friend drove me home. We started at 10 a.m. that morning and were out until almost 8 p.m. I bought him gas. My friend took an entire day to drive me around and help me buy a car. I tried to give him outs all day, but he stuck with me the whole journey. He’s a truly valiant man, and I’m lucky to know him. I told him that if there was anything I could do to repay the favor, I would in a heartbeat.

The next day, I returned my rental. I drove it up to Longmont and dropped it off at the rental place there. They gave me a ride to Hauser and Son Auto. I met Konrad there, and I cut him a check. He gave me the keys. We shook. Two weeks after my accident, I drove away in my new 2010 Ford Fiesta.

A week later, I received the title to my new car in the mail, but not before I was in – drum roll- another car accident. See Chapter 2!