In the beginning was the plan, and the plan was good.
With family expansion in the works, we were going to get a minivan in October. I learned to drive in a 1987 Dodge Caravan and I like to think of myself as being somewhat practical, so the popular perception of minivans as emasculating lepermobiles has never touched me at all. I'm not about to run out and waste cash on an SUV or a dressed-up minivan like the PT Cruiser. We scrimped and saved, and we had the money in the bank. When October rolled around, we'd get the family mover and I would inherit the 2000 Honda Accord. Nothing, barring a catastrophe, could change our plan.
As some of you already know, a catastrophe did visit us in the form of a flaming idiot at the wheel of a Ford F250. Luckily, the only casualty was our Accord.
I tend to grow attached to material things. That attachment roots itself deeper and stronger if the material thing has done me a great service or if I have lots of happy memories associated with it. Just look at the rusty hulk of a 1972 Chevy Blazer sitting in front of out house and you'll see one of the strongest symptoms of this tendency.
So although the 2000 Accord was young, it had managed to rack up some serious sentimental value in its short 27,000-mile life.
It was the first new car my wife and I had owned. We drove my son home from the hospital in it. We trekked up to Oregon to meet my parents on a camping trip and it faithfully swallowed all the equipment we could stuff into it.
I liked its mild styling. I never took its bevy of mod-cons for granted. Years of driving 70s-vintage trucks instills a healthy respect for power windows, moonroofs, and CD players.
Not to say the car was perfect. The aluminum wheels clicked against their steel hubs unless you greased them during every tire rotation. A visit to Home Depot left a deep scratch in the paint of one of the doors. I dented the driver's side door interior trim with a key. A third of the sedans in the Bay Area must be silver, late-model Accords. As I mentioned before, standing out from the crowd isn't a necessity for me. I don't need to drive a Saab to let everyone know how special I am. Still, in the first week we owned the Accord, I walked up to three silver Accords clicking the remote like mad, wondering why no flashy-flashy. Also, Harlock drives a 2001 silver Accord. Mostly I took this as another indication of our freakishly parallel lives, but I always envied his in-dash multi-disc CD player. Missed it by one model year!
Our beloved Accord was dead and now I needed to try and find a replacement. Armed with a nice check from our surprisingly responsive insurance company, I browsed the requisite websites for the autos aimed at my demographic. Mazda? No thanks. Mitsubishi? Uh uh. Anything with a domestic badge? Well, all those black circles in Consumer Reports make me wonder how Ford, GM, and DaimlerChrysler manage to stay in business. BMW? Way too many bucks for what I need and I don't want to turn into a complete asshole on the road. Volkswagon? Tempting, but again too much cash and the though of having to use premium gas to get the stated performance numbers is a little galling. Toyota? Well, I'm not too partial to their pricing strategy. Sure, you can mix and match options to get exactly what you want, but when I spec a vehicle the way I want it, it always seems a grand or two more than the Honda. Also, I don't like Toyota's ergonomic philosophy, which to me ends up feeling like "you will eventually mold yourself to suit our seat design." So I was left with Honda again.
I didn't like the new "sporty" styling of the 2003 sedan. Less trunk space, though only by 0.1 ft2, seemed a little stupid for a family car. What I wanted was my 2000 Accord, dammit.
Should I save some dough and spring for a lower trim level or maybe even a Civic? Two things cut this line of linking short. First, my head hit the ceiling of the Civic. I'm only 5'10". The Civic must be designed for dwarves, hobbits, and leprechauns. Second, my wife argued the spirit of the thing: before the flaming idiot came crashing into our lives, we had a nice, shiny Accord EX. Getting anything less would be allowing the flaming idiot too much influence on our lives.
I toyed a bit with getting the LX-V6. Its 240 horses tempted me, but in the end practicality won over.
A very few minutes on the lots with a helpful salesman tied up the remaining loose ends. Cars with the light interior included an amazingly tacky faux-burl-wood finish on many prominent bits. I couldn't look at that silly stuff for more than a few moments. This narrowed my exterior color choices to Eternal Blue Pearl, Redondo Red Pearl, Graphite Pearl, or Satin Silver Metallic. My in-laws drive blue cars. Red belongs on Ferraris, not family sedans. Once again joining the legions of silver-car drivers mildly depressed me, but I was willing to do it if Graphite Pearl didn't appeal. As it turned out, Graphite Pearl really caught my eye. Dark without being deep black, it caught the light with an interesting sheen. Also, to many folks, it has a slight blue tint, just enough to keep it interesting.
Now all we had to do was hand over a check and say "2003 Accord EX sedan, four cylinder, automatic, in Graphite Pearl with cloth interior" and the helpful salesman would give us the keys.
One teensy snag: my car didn't exist.
After three weeks of waiting for our helpful salesman to find us the car, my wife started calling the dealers in the area. No dice. Some folks would tell us they had three on the lot, but when pressed would admit that they were LXs or leather. Were we sure we didn't want the leather? No, I didn't want to pay $1000 more for something I don't even like and would then have to meticulously maintain and worry about. Some dealers assured us there was one arriving in a few days. We were within one hour of driving to Tracy (!!!) when I decided to call to confirm. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I tried to reach you. The car is an LX, but we can get you a good deal on another color."
Our problem was that for such a high-volume, low-margin car like the Accord, no dealer wanted to deal with us. If it wasn't already on their lot or on its way, they weren't interested..
Finally, we came back to CarsDirect.com. They themselves were surprised to find out that there were only three of my cars in all of California. Two were already spoken for by other CarsDirect customers and the remaining available car was way down in Ontario, right near Rancho Cucamonga. But because of their relatively neutral, broker status, CarsDirect was willing to take an order from us for my car.
Five weeks later, it's sitting in my driveway.
The styling has grown on me. I actually like it now. The rear end is a little squished, but I can handle that. Speaking of handling, the ride is a little more firm and it corners much more confidently than our 2000 Accord. A sweeping turn with bumps near our house would have the "old" Accord wallowing around, but the new car doesn't complain at all.
There are a few nits to pick. The instruments don't dim very smoothly. The sound system emits ultra-high-frequency noise that has me a little worried. The door opens wider than I can easily grab it to close. The high rear deck has me feeling blind in my rear view mirror at night (I can't see the headlights of cars stopped behind me at all). These things don't mar the glamour of the car much at all for me. What I really like so far is the super sharp instrumentation, the console top that slides forward as an armrest, the door that hides my box of tissues, the i-VTEC timing chain that requires no maintenance for the life of the vehicle instead of a timing belt that needs an expensive changing every 105,000 miles, the steering-wheel-mounted radio controls… oh, and I absolutely adore the in-dash 6-disc CD player.
Pakeha