PURCHASING POWER

 September 30^th  marked a year since I bought my new/old car. You may remember I wrote about my accident last year (SEPTEMBER BEGAN WITH A BANG) that necessitated this purchase. In the weeks following, I searched online sites for a replacement car. I was nervous about this purchase, anxious about making the wrong choice, buying a lemon etc. etc. I am not a car person, have zero interest in them other than being my means of transportation, mostly to my tennis club, the grocery store, my friends and writing group meetups. To be so anxiety-filled by this did not sit well with me. Yes, it was a big purchase, involving thousands of dollars, but I was looking for a modest second-hand car, not an expensive luxury item. Finally, I made my decision – gulp!

Sept. 30, 2025 with my newly purchased car

I handed over my credit card and signed the form. The last time I’d made such a purchase had been fifteen years earlier, with the help of my ex-husband who, at that time, I’d been separated from for ten years, and still I’d felt I could not make a car purchase on my own. Now, there I was trying to negotiate a car deal alone, for the first time in my life. I felt out of my depth but hid my feelings of inadequacy behind a façade of bravado. Wasn’t I older and wiser now?

“Do we have a deal if I knock a thousand dollars off?” the sales manager asked.

“Yes,” I said, shaking his extended hand, feigning confidence. I signed firmly, assuredly, ignoring the turbulence inside me echoed in my surroundings: the strong almost nauseating smell of brewing coffee; voices pitched to close a deal; the clacking of keyboards; rustling of papers, always so much paper! This was a significant purchase of something I knew little about, although I’d diligently done the tedious research. But also, a feeling of relief swept through me, my hunt was finally over.

The salesperson gestured to the bell on the counter. I felt I couldn’t refuse. I picked it up and rang it, its congratulatory peals reminding me of the time I’d rung a bell to mark the end of my radiation treatments, years earlier. Bells mark endings, but also beginnings.

  “Congratulations,” the salesperson said, as if I’d accomplished something worthwhile, when all I’d really done was make a purchase.

But perhaps the congratulations were deserved. In my sixties, it was the first time I’d bought a car on my own, without the presence and input of a man. It felt like a win not just for me, but for many women of my generation.

Now, a year later, I’m happy with the purchase I made. It has not proved to be a lemon.