Taunted by Gold

About a week ago, in the local supermarket parking lot, I spied a sign. "FOR SALE," it read. A nice, shiny golden car about the size of the Mighty Taurus, gleaming in the sunlight. So I wandered over to look closer at the info posted in the window. A 2004 Chevy Classic with surprisingly low mileage (under 30,000.) The price... well, I could do it without a loan, but it wouldn't leave me much of a safety net.

I stood there and looked at that car for a good, long while. Thus far, my search for a new(er) vehicle has been limited to Internet pricing and review searches. I'd been leaning toward a Focus or something similar, because they look reasonably reliable and because, when I enter my list of demands in online car dealership searches, it's one of the cars that keeps popping up. I hadn't even thought of Chevy, and I couldn't offhand place the Classic in my meager mental list of car makes. I was also hoping, in this economy, that I could get something a bit newer than a 2004, which would (theoretically) buy me more time before major issues. But there it was, not five slots away. It looked clean. It looked shiny. It looked a heck of a lot better than the poor old Taurus, with its disintegrating paint and various slow leaks and occasional starting-in-the-parking-lot issues.

Eventually, I wandered into the store to do my shopping, then went home. I poked around online and searched for more online reviews of used cars (surprisingly difficult, unless one counts general user reviews.) I thought about going out to dealerships, and I thought about that golden Chevy - which didn't look like such a bad deal, if the posting public could be trusted.

A few days later, I was back at the grocery store. And there the Chevy Classic was again. Still shiny. Still golden. And still for sale. So this time, I at least wrote down the phone number of the seller. And I stared at the mileage (so temptingly low...). And the year (a little older than I wanted...). And the make (born and raised a Ford driver...). And the price (doable, and likely negotiable... and completely devoid of used car salesmen and loan applications...).

As I shopped, I reminded myself that I had no idea what, really, lay beneath that gleaming golden exterior. Maybe the tranny's about to go. Maybe the owner smokes like a chimney and has incontinent Chihuahuas. Maybe it handles like a ton of bricks in a three-wheeled pram. And maybe I really ought to hold my horses until I do more homework.

In the checkout line, I looked at Consumer Reports. The annual auto issue just hit the stands. Stupid, mocking Universe... Of course, I bought it, but still - stupid, mocking Universe...

As I started up the Mighty Taurus, it wouldn't start. Not on the first go, at least. While I gunned the gas to get it started and waited for it to mellow out enough to trust in gear, I kept looking across the parking lot to the golden Chevy Classic. And I remembered I had my cell phone, and the number to call. And the money right in the bank.

Stupid, mocking Universe...

Much as I know I ought to do some actual test drives and more intensive hunting, a small part of me wonders if I ought to just make the call and get that Chevy down to the mechanic's for a once-over.

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Oh, on a completely unrelated note, anyone know anything about wireless routers? My tax refund came in, and I thought I'd indulge myself and the Little Black Critter, but the only info I can find online is so mired in technobabble not even a die-hard sci-fi fan could decipher it. I don't want to screw up existing computers just to let the LBC go online to update itself like it so desperately wants to do.