Seeking One Good Deal for a Box on Wheels

As you all know I have been contemplating getting another box on wheels. It has been a long time since I have owned one of these contraptions. And you all know that I don't typically make any decision with any sort of quickness. Once a scientist. Always a scientist. I suppose.

At any rate. In my perusal of boxes on wheels I have noticed something that I do not quite understand. And perhaps it is me. Maybe I am somehow missing something. But nevertheless. I need to know.

Why does everyone want to sell their piece of shit box on wheels for way more than it's worth.

I mean seriously dude.

Well I suppose because they think they can. Maybe their particular box on wheels has some sort of sentimental value. And they really don't want to part with it. But they have to for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps their partner has informed them that they will no longer tolerate the piece of shit box on wheels and either it goes or they go.

I think that seems rather harsh. But I have discovered life is strange and unusual. So I suppose anything is possible.

So they go through the motions. But secretly they are hoping no one will really buy their box on wheels. And then they can explain to said one-foot-out-the-door partner that they have tried to unload said piece of shit box on wheels but they have had no luck to date.

And let me say this. I'm no stranger to the box on wheels sentimentality. I had a box on wheels once. In fact. And this is another surprising little detail about me. I have only ever owned one box on wheels. And I loved my little box on wheels. I drove it through more states than I can possible count. And I would like to think that I have a reasonably sufficient intelligence quotient.

My little box on wheels was faithfully devoted to me. She was with me for a very long time. She saw me through the best of times and the worst of times. She was old, but still had spunk. And she would still be here today, despite the minor leak causing a small pond to form in the trunk every winter. If it wasn't for the evil SUV that decided to crunch her (and me) beyond repair.

Sometimes I wonder if I am in fact, beyond repair.

And then things happened. And years passed. And I am still sans box on wheels.

Some time ago I decided that it might be time to get another box on wheels. I have thought about this before. However it became clear to me after freaking out in a box on wheels while a technologically obsessed individual I was riding with began sending a text message while driving. After the hyperventilating ceased I came to the realization that I might still be a little bit freaked on the road and the only way I think I will be able to get over this fear might very well be to get another box on wheels. And start driving again. And I should probably do this before I develop a full blown case of post-traumatic stress disorder.

I started looking. And then I threw up my hands in despair. I consider myself to be a reasonably intelligent human bean. People purchase boxes on wheel every day. Yet I was experiencing severe challenges.

The point is that I am now thinking again about boxes and wheels and such. And I really think I'd like to get an old box on wheels. Something with personality. Character. Staying power. Something cool.

Something cheap.

And it's the cheap part that has proved problematic. So I've come around full circle now. I have made an observation. For some individuals who are selling their box on wheels, old = classic. And classic = rare. And rare = way more cheddar than it's really worth. I find this to be especially laughable when the "classic" box on wheels is a piece of utter crap. Rust. Oil leaks. Mysterious clanking. Transmission problems. No freakin' interior whatsoever. No freakin' exterior whatsoever. No freakin' ENGINE. I shit you not. Each and every example originals from an actual individual attempting to sell an actual box on wheels.

At least they all had wheels.

I mean really people. I know you love your little box on wheels You probably have fond memories of it. Beautiful memories of adventures far and wide. But let's be realistic. Your box of wheels ain't worth crap.

And obtaining a box on wheels involves a great deal. It's a big decision. No. It is. Remember. I said I have only ever owned one box on wheels. And that whole scientist thing. Every decision becomes an insane research project. Except when it doesn't. But that is not the point.

I was on the verge of torturing and then killing and then mutilating another human bean. So I gave up. Took a break. Got some calm. Then decided I would give it another shot.

So I've been looking. Again. But little has changed.

And just so you know I am not making this shit up, here is a portion of the reply I received today when inquiring about a 1975 Volvo. Color = orange. I expected the individual to quote me a figure higher than what he actually wanted for the box. But I was not prepared for this:

"The Volvo is still available. I need to get $7,500 for it. I have $9,000 invested in the car and drive train work. Had a freak thing happen with a valve so rebuilt the top end of the engine. They were able to look inside the lower part of the engine and said it looked great. The car is like new except for a spot on the drivers seat that has worn through. Two mechanics have looked at it and given it an A+. I have owned it @one year. Before that it was owned by one family that we know. I bought the car for my son for driving around Seattle, where he lives. He has gotten into a commuting situation for which the car is not appropriate. Thanks for the interest. Mark"

I thought perhaps he accidentally included an extra zero. Then I realized he was not joking. And what exactly does "a commuting situation for which the car is not appropriate" mean?

I really wanted to tell Mark that he could go fuck himself. That no one was going to pay $7500 for his vehicle. It's a fucking VOLVO people. Not a one of a kind classic. However I decided that I didn't need to tell Mark that I thought he was mentally ill and that I should stick a fork in his eye. He would be stuck with the box and I would move on.

So I keep looking. Far and wide. Wide and far.

And I have this dream. I have a dream that I will meet an eighty-seven year old woman who bought her 1960-ish very cool box on wheels new and only drove to the grocery store and to her hairdresser once a week. In my dream, I am standing in line at the grocery store. And it turns out that she has forgotten her REDACTED grocery store savings care. And so I offer the use of my REDACTED grocery store savings card so that she can get the extra savings on thirty cans of cat food and a quart of whole milk. And then I help her out to her car. Because I'm nice like that. And I like old people. And we are walking. Slow baby steps. And she speaks to me of many things. And I listen.

And then I see it. It's beautiful. And I almost shed a tear. And then Mildred or Prudence or Dorothy tells me that she's really getting too old to be driving anymore. And out of the kindness of her heart she offers to give me her car. Because no one has listened to a word she has said for at least fifteen years. Until she met me.

Hey. Stop laughing. I said it was a dream, didn't I. It could happen. You don't have to shit all over my parade with your skepticism. That's just plain rude. Geesh.

So if anyone has a grandmother that is looking to get rid of her very cool old box on wheels. Or if she is about to die any time soon. Let me know.