The title should actually read “I (almost!) Bought a Jeep Wrangler.”
I had an April Fool’s joke all written and ready to post the last day of March (today), but I changed it to “draft” — it was a re-do of last year’s prank, where many of my gullible readers believed I’d ponied up and bought a Jeep Wrangler. I’m pretty sure I would’ve fooled a lot of the same crowd again (you know who you are).
I decided not to post my April Fool’s joke this year because of how very very very veryveryvery close I actually came to buying a Jeep Wrangler this week. We’re not talking “Oh, Snay swung by the dealership and drooled on Jeeps until the police took him away”, we’re talking “Snay had financing lined up and his finger on the trigger.”
Understand that I will on occasion a few times a month search the inventories of local car dealerships for Wranglers. I will on occasion search eBay motors for local auctions on Wranglers. And doing that late last week, I came across an auction for a Jeep at a dealership in Annapolis that I fell head-over-heels in love with. Whereas I always before would just look and drool, for some reason I contacted the dealership and started talking with the internet sales manager about financing, and down-payments, and no trade-in, etcetra. Running late for V for Vendetta Tuesday night, I told him I’d drive down the next day to do all the paperwork and pick up the Jeep, and providing my insurance wouldn’t go up too much.
My insurance broker, Andy, used to work at the Indy. He was a buddy of JMac and a regular customer — and a good tipper — for a short time before coming to work a few night shifts a week. Then his insurance job picked up and he hasn’t looked back. When I spoke to him yesterday about the insurance increase, he related a story to me of his neighbor — just the other day — looking to sell his Wrangler and asking Andy if he knew anyone who might be interested. Andy told him, “Actually, I do…” and then came in the next morning to my voice mail message. He was a little saddened when I called him back to tell him I’d opted not to buy the Jeep, and he was probably remembering some of those shifts we’d work together when it was slow and I’d ride along with him in his ’95 Wrangler.
In this case, what I almost bought was a 2004 electric lime green “X” trim, 20,000 miles, 6-cyl, 5-speed, soft-top with full-steel doors. It would’ve — could’ve — been mine, with a thousand bucks down and sixty-six monthly payments of $315, with an insurance increase of seventy-bucks per month (hoorah for multiple vehicle discounts). Then reality – guilt? – gripped me, I phoned the dealership, and put the axe to the deal. I can’t buy a Jeep until I pay my parents off … or at the very least, until the Celica’s on her last legs (wheels?). I’m suffering from a strange combination of non-buyer’s remorse and non-buyer’s gratitude. (And I figure, with Neckbone going out of town on vacation in April, I’ll get to satisfy my Jeep cravings with his Rubicon. I’m planning seven consecutive day trips to Ocean City, anyone wanna come with?)
I’m reluctant to admit this because I’m quite certain that after reading this, my dear, sainted mother is going to throw things at me the next time I see her (Tuesday). And the only reason my dear, sainted father won’t throw things at me is because he’ll be out of town.
Self-control is a good thing.
(At least, that’s what I keep telling myself).
(Is there any wonder my mother’s hair turned gray a year after I was born?)