I'm starting a new life here in the U.S. after having lived a few different ones in another country for 11 years. I certainly had my fair share of identity crises overseas. But now I am embarking on a new set of them right here in my home country.
Today I started used car shopping. I wanted something with low mileage, that was reliable, and was in good shape. Although I had checked out a few dealerships, I was excited to see a great deal for a trusty Toyota Corolla posted on Craig's list! I arranged to meet the seller in the parking lot of a public library: a safe meeting place. The seller seemed nice enough, but when I questioned him about a few things, he was suspiciously evasive.
Me: "Why is it so loud when I accelerate?"
Seller with a blank look on his face: "I know this sounds like a car salesman answer, but I really don't know"
Me: "Why is the check engine light on?"
Seller: "Oh, it could be anything: the gas cap, an oxygen sensor, I just haven't had time to look into it."
...
After further prodding, the seller finally broke down and admitted he had lied to me and actually did know that the catalytic converter needs to be replaced. He claims it would only cost $500 but I priced it on www.automd.com at $1,500 - $2,500.
In the end, the cigarette burns on the upholstery of the car and the shady character of the seller convinced me not to proceed with the negotiations even though the listed price seemed attractively low.
I know God will provide me with the right car for the right price at the right time.
I won't say how, but I later discovered some details about the owner of the vehicle. Why was the mileage so unbelievably low? Maybe it could be because she was in House Arrest for an indefinite amount of time! I discovered the cigarette burns might not even have been only from tobacco cigarettes. In fact, I realized that her family and friends were into the same lifestyle: experienced house arresters.
How did I get to this place in life where I, a responsible, mid-life engineer by profession, is considering buying the castoffs of a 20-something party girl who has been in trouble with the law? It can be humbling to say the least.
Where exactly do I fit in the totem pole of the social strata here?
