I’m in the midst of an anniversary of sorts as I contemplate the seven-year birthday of my car.
Here she is “Zippety-do-dah”, my Mini Cooper, Mayfair series, with extra chrome and leather interior – with top-stitching in turquoise, I must add. I like secrets like that. I also like the brown striping on the side rearview mirrors and on the dash. An atypical feature for what resembles, at first glance, a cop car.
Part of the 2010 decision to purchase a new vehicle sprung from a trifecta of frightening tire blowouts, all at CA freeway speed = fast. I recall each one clearly, an experience freshened each time I drive by the differing site. All are local, which about all I drive. My Mini odometer just passed 46,000 miles. What a good buy she’ll be: single owner, little ole lady in Irvine’s grid of convenience where little driving is required to reach all necessary services.
All of the high speed blow-outs occurred on the right rear tire. Coincidence? Accident – nope, none of that. What can I say? God is good.
I’m in the midst of an anniversary of sorts as I contemplate the next car I should buy. Should I purchase one of the special models designed for last year’s 100th anniversary of Mini production or the Corvette, whose looks and engine power excite? The Tesla 3 for which nearly a half-million drivers plunked down a $1000.00 deposit, sight unseen? (now that sneak peek was provided, the interested list likely doubled in length)
Here’s the constraint, the caveat, the perimeters of my vow, however: I long ago decided that it would be unseemly to spend more for a car than on the first house we bought in 1976. If you can guess its custom home price, West Lafayette, Indiana, you’ll be armed to provide a suggestion for my purchase…
Ready, set, go! Zip!
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