The Zeitgeist with Howard Barbanel
Thursday, August 4, 2011 at 10:43PM 
My car lease expires in about three weeks. We spend a lot of time with our cars and it can be argued they even become part of the family. I stopped buying cars about 15 years ago because I learned that, sadly, there is no free ride in this life. By that I mean that once you stop paying the bank on a car loan, invariably you start paying the various and sundry mechanics for anything and everything that breaks down or wears out.
You can rest assured that as soon as the loan is paid off, the warranty expires, the brake pads and tires need to be replaced, the wheels need alignment, the air conditioning needs work, new shocks and struts may be necessary (owing to the smooth pavement here especially on New York City roads) and far worse can unexpectedly materialize. That’s why I’ve been leasing. Car problem? Not my problem, it’s the dealer’s problem and every few years you get a brand spanking new set of wheels.
The cars we choose to drive often say a lot about ourselves, our self image, what we may look to project to outsiders and how much, if at all, we really care about all of that. They say that dogs often look like their masters. Cars also ape the image of their drivers and stereotypes abound. There’s the little old lady in the 30 year-old relic chugging down the street; the male senior citizen in his Cadillac; the greaser or “Guido” in his muscle car (Chevy Camaros, both old and new are the ultimate “Guido” car); the suburban white collar professional driving an expensive car imported from any country hostile to U.S. foreign policy; the mother of a large brood with the silver Honda mini-van, and so it goes.
The first car I owned was a maroon 1966 Pontiac Catalina station wagon with seating for 12 with more than 100,000 miles on the odometer which cost me all of $200. It got minus five miles to the gallon when gas was about 45 cents per for premium. The steering wheel was enormous and it took five turns from end to end. Bias ply tires. No shoulder belts.
Generally I associate my cars with whatever personal relationship may have predominated during my tenure with whichever car. There was my 1969 Pontiac Firebird in puke green with black vinyl top and no factory air conditioning that I drove from my senior year in high school through much of college. In high school I had two totally unrequited teenage crushes with two different Lisas, one who went to Woodmere Academy and one from sleep away camp. College was my time with Shelley from Staten Island who I met at an NYU orientation and Wendy from Brandeis University who I met on the beach in Martinique on a family winter vacation.
In the Fall of 1980 I bought a silver 1981 Ford Mustang GT with T-tops (remember those?). It cost something like $7,000 new. A real splurge. These were my University of Miami grad school years along with Alison from East Rockaway who I met at Boston’s in Delray Beach (FL) and then my first wife Cheryl who I met in the cafeteria at UM’s Mohoney-Pearson dorms. She was an R.A., so she had her own solo room, a real luxury in dorm terms. From there for a time I had a boring Pontiac Grand Am which was a company car. When that job ended I treated myself to a silver 1983 Datsun (now Nissan) 280ZX, silver with wicked black pin striping, T-tops, rear-window louvers and front headlight bubble covers. A five-speed manual, it flew like lightning. My first marriage having ended before buying this car, these were the days of my intense short relationship with Silvia who sold advertising for The Miami Herald and a multi-year long-distance relationship with Amy from Washington, D.C. who drove an old Mercedes she called “Mr. Benz.”
The “Z” got stolen right in front of my office (it was Miami, after all) and I replaced it with the ultimate flashy car, a used 1983 Maserati Bi-Turbo Coupe in forest green with so much wood, leather and suede inside that an entire forest and herd of cows probably sacrificed themselves for this vehicle. A great New Year’s with Jill from South Miami in this car. Alas, it was totaled after a mere three weeks of ownership by a woman with a suspended license, running a red light and barreling into me at 50 mph with an enormous 70’s-era Cadillac Sedan de Ville. The car was wrecked but I emerged thankfully unscathed. She was arrested. To replace the Italian job I went this time for a 1986 Toyota Celica Convertible, in white with black top and interior. When living in a place like Florida, what you drive is important and a part of the culture.
In 1990, I came back to New York and have been here ever since. For the first couple of years I didn’t have a car as I was living and working in Manhattan. Once I entered the wine business, I needed a car and the first one was a family hand-me-down, a small 1986 Cadillac Cimarron (also silver) that surprisingly was a very well-built car that I drove well past 120,000 miles with hardly a repair needed. As that car died, I went for a 1995 Chrysler Sebring coupe in some kind of turquoise blue that was a dealer car with 1,000 miles on it. These were the days I met my now ex-wife and spent nearly 15 years in various forms of togetherness. The Sebring (a horrible car) gave way to a used black Lexis sedan that was also stolen in Manhattan, after which we got a 2001 Chevy Blazer Xtreme (extremism in the pursuit of SUV’s in the last decade was no vice) in deep black. Moving to the suburbs came a succession of Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredos and as a second car, a used Toyota 4Runner.
As the Toyota was facing the end of its useful life, I procured my present set of wheels, a 2008 Mazda MX-5 Grand Touring with 18-inch alloy wheels, eight-speaker Bose sound system and retractable hard top. A real joy to drive, this is a fabulous car in every respect but for the fact that it’s somewhat haunted as my now ex split midway through my ownership of this car. I’m looking forward to driving something fresh and new, unencumbered by the ghosts of passengers past. Not in any relationship now, I’m hopeful that any new vehicle (and I’m dithering and tossed between four possible cars) will, as with prior cars, eventually come with a female co-pilot as standard equipment and not as an expensive option. With a few weeks to go, I’ll keep you posted on my ultimate choice of wheels, the co-pilot thing however may take a little longer.
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