"Life is a lemon and I want my money back" - part three, the conclusion

The night had been busy and combined with a self-inflicted pressure, tiresome. Despite an ill-placed hope for blissful ignorance, the time to dawdle ran out. Like a nail in a tire causing an immediate flat, the issue had to be addressed. The unseen vehicle I naïvely agreed to purchase was quickly slipping from my grasp. It’s blown engine vaporized my happy ending. With inane sparks of hope remaining, I pestered my mechanically-brilliant connections for advice. Their word was simple, “run.” One followed the sentiment with a sobering reality. “Next you may have to replace the transmission and clutch.” I cringed. The car had just twenty-two thousand miles. How could this be?

As the minutes ticked to hours, my search narrowed and produced two possibilities – a white 2019 manual Kia Soul with forty-three thousand miles just thirty-one miles away; and a black 2018 stick shift Kia Soul with seventy-eight thousand miles and fifty-five miles away. While grasping at straws, I also inquired about an alien green 2018 Kia Soul with a manual transmission and twenty-three thousand miles in a Midwest city that could be delivered to me after its eight-hundred fifty-five-mile trek. I recognized the irony. I also allowed myself to be tempted by other makes and models and was momentarily distracted by a VW Jetta with tushy toasters. Despite its manual transmission and beautiful steel blue coloring, I knew the German ride would not make me happy.

Truth be told, mad rush aside, I despised my current situation. I didn’t want a “new-to-me” vehicle. I preferred the one that was now missing the left corner and had an inward-bent tire. If it could be road worthy, I’d proudly drive the vehicle with a unique crack on the passenger side of the windshield and its stubborn driver-side lock. I did not willingly put myself in this situation.

With nothing left to do, I closed the laptop and laid in bed, trying to woo myself to sleep.

Morning comes ... eventually.

I roll out of bed, open the laptop, and again inquire about the white car in my old stomping grounds. As I wait, I review the online Carfax, details, and pictures. Then, I call and make arrangements to see the vehicle.

The moment comes. The salesman, who looks like a soon-to-be college graduate walking to collect the long-awaited degree, my other half and I walk toward the car.

When I reach it, I inspect the outside. My heart skips a beat. I open the door, sit inside on the black cloth seat and scope out the interior. It indeed has a stick shift. The driver’s chair is cushion-y. The number of toys, buttons, and secret compartments is fun. I drive off the parking lot and notice the smooth transition between gears, the flawless ride. My questions are suddenly prefaced with “she.” I talk to her, let her know I adore her, and announce, “I want her.”

The hours-long purchase process is painless with the salesman making accommodations where he can. She and I leave together later that afternoon. We spend the thirty-nine miles talking, sitting in traffic, and discovering each other’s behaviors.

Epilogue: I repaid the loan with interest that I initially received from my credit union for the never-purchased alien green Kia Soul. After I cancelled the Carvana purchase, I called customer service to let them know their practices suck. They promised compensation. Although it wouldn’t be the original $750 assured to me, since I didn’t finalize the purchase, I was promised $100 plus the loan’s interest. When I didn’t receive the check in two weeks, I called back to ask the status. I was told to expect the check in four to six weeks as that was standard protocol. Oh, and the Indianapolis dealership wanted a $1,000 nonrefundable delivery free for the alien green Kia Soul.