My husband likes buying new cars. At least, it seems like he does because he’s doing it every few years—four years being the maximum he can endure without car shopping. So our garage sees plenty of inhabitants.
Me? I don’t like the car buying process.
I mean, it’s fun to see the pretty colors and drive the sporty models. The new car aroma is intoxicating in its own way.
But car salesmen…even the good ones…talk too much and listen too little.
Even walking in with “cash” didn’t make the process more speedy.
It’s like they have to play their little “numbers” game. No matter what.
And the truth is, I’m not a huge fan of new gadgetry, and that includes new vehicles. I learn the ins and outs of my rig, and it becomes a member of my extended family.
If I had my way, I’d still be driving my 1998 Durango. I adored that guy (Shari’s Tough Machine) but when gas prices sky-rocketed and my sons started driving their own vehicles rather than riding with us, my husband decided I needed something ….more economical? In truth, I’m rather vague on this point.
Anyway, he likes new and shiny. I’m not a fan of monthly payments. Usually we’re at an impasse.
Or he gets a new job one week and purchases a Mustang the next. Because…why not?
And if I say “I want a…” then he sees it as his mission in life to get that for me.
Five years ago, it was an Audi Q5. At the time, they were behind on the technology of syncing all your devices with your car and using it as a WiFi hot spot. But, man did that baby handle like a sports car. Acceleration…yep. Cornering at speed…oh, yeah.
*Grin stretches off her face*
But it was out of the price range. And I decided at that time, I would get a solid book contract with a $50,000 advance and pay cash for the amazing driving machine.
And boy did that motivate me to produce novels at the rate of four per year.
Not that I sold a single one of them. In fact, only one per year met the advanced rewriting, revising and editing stages so it could be pitched to agents and publishers.
But…there was a carrot dangling. And it was shiny…and hugged the road like a Porsche 911 (exact words the salesman used on my first test drive).
And now it’s in my garage. There’s a monthly payment attached.
And, no, I don’t have a book contract that paid a sizable advance. In fact, none of my book contracts (yes, I have many) includes advance payment. Which is fine. Because now that I know how that works, I’d rather wait until I’m a best-selling author before anyone bets on me that way.
But what’s going to motivate me to keep writing novels at a break-neck pace now that the sporty SUV is hanging out on the other side of my office wall? Maybe the idea of paying the loan of early.
It doesn’t have the same compulsive sound to it.
What’s in your garage? A car? Boxes? A crafting area?