How I was Tricked into buying a new car

How I was Tricked into buying a new car


Do you remember Admiral Ackbar in “Star Wars 6: The Return of the Jedi” when he said “It’s a trap!!”? That’s exactly the scene I saw in my mind when my mom tricked me into buying a new car. But let’s start from the beginning.

Cartoons taught us that we all have two invisible beings talking to us at each shoulder: a demon and an angel. Since I am pretty interested in Buddhism I imagined that my angel would be a kind of white-haired Vulcan with pointy ears like Ambassador Spock, but it ended to be an annoying rationalist pretty much like Sheldon Cooper. My demon seems to be a pervert: Howard Wolowitz but tinier. Of course.

One day my mom told me that she was considering to buy a car. Since she does not drive I thought it was an eccentricity and I did not pay much attention. However, my Wolowitz was whispering at my ear that I should take driving lessons just in case she was actually serious about getting a car so I could pick up some chick on a borrowed ride. Few weeks later my mom said she had made a decision and will invest part of her savings in a car. “Really?” I told her, slightly surprised. “Well, I can take you to some car dealers to help you to choose one. Twingos are cool”, I added. Since I am pro-public transportation, my inner Sheldon was enumerating the bunch of reasons why people in cities with population 2.5 million (like Cali) or bigger should use less cars in favor of public transportation.

That weekend, after visiting a couple of car dealers, my mom fell in love with a nice ride but in an ugly colour, between dirt and rusty gold. “Not a Twingo but hey, it’s her money, her decision… as long as you can borrow it” insisted my tiny Wolowitz. When the salesman asked us under whose name should he make the paperwork, my mom said my name. “It’s a trap!! It’s a trap!!” shouted my inner Sheldon faking Admiral Ackbar’s voice. My darkest suspicions were confirmed when it was clear that I would be responsible for the car’s maintenance and to pay an extra fee to my building’s administration for a parking space. And to get a driver license.

Then, my little Wolowitz made his move: “Since she has chosen time, brand, model, driver (you) parking space (yours) and the payer of taxes and maintenance (you), YOU should at least choose the colour”. So I chose a Lannister red, despite my mom and the salesman looked shocked and tried to convince me to change my mind for a grey or silver.

When the deal was a done deed, my tiny Sheldon made me realise that my mom played me like a master: despite all my reluctance to buy a car, she knew I wouldn’t pass that hideous colour and once I get involved I would not break the deal.

Now I know I will be like the main character in “Driving Miss Daisy”, driving my mom everywhere. But I should had known better. After all, my mom is a saleswoman herself, and the dark side of the Force is strong in her.