In recent years, our
Christmas celebrations honed down to a few items under the tree for each of us,
and our traditional Eggs Benedict with mimosas brunch (I’ve perfected the
timing for hollandaise sauce). We open simple gifts that hover between
necessity and desire. The first year of the pandemic, we stayed home and stayed
safe. With everyone vaccinated and boosted, this last Christmas meant my brother
would journey to San Antonio once again. This four hour feat worried all of us
since Charles’s 2005 Ford Focus’s 255,000 odometer ticked “doom, doom, doom”
with every trip he took. Without my brother’s knowledge, we’d cleared some debt
and planned on purchasing our own new car in the first months of 2022 with the
idea of gifting him our own, six-year-old Focus.
Naturally, even the
best strategies snarl when serendipity saunters onto the scene. I’d forgotten
to warn Charles of all of the new construction on the main highway heading to
our house that required an earlier exit for him. Laughter tinged his voice when
he called to say he’d missed the turn-off and was parked in the hospital’s lot.
Although he’d ridden as a passenger many times over the years from the hospital
to our house, he didn’t know the route and asked if I could swing by for him to
follow me home. I apologized profusely once I pulled up next to his car because
I’d forgotten to warn him about the road changes.
He jumped into his
car. I jumped into mine. Another vehicle needed to pass, and I pulled ahead in
the lot, waiting for Charles to follow me. I waited. His car didn’t move. I
waited. He got out of his car. I waited. He waved me back. His dilapidated car
didn’t sigh, or clunk, or click when he tried to start it. I called David. The three
of us puttered under the hood, jumped the battery (ran to get another one), but
death gripped this ancient, worn-out beast. I watched Charles in amazement as he
went around to the back passenger door, leaned across the back seat to open
the back driver’s side door. He sped around the rear of the car, opened the
back door wider, leaned into the front driver’s side, and popped that front
door open. In dismay, I realized that the exterior handle of his driver’s door hung
in pieces. We called our dealer, walking distance from the hospital, to see
about a tow. No trucks available. No mechanics available to work on the car
until after the first week of January. The dealer referred us to another shop
and tow service. No one answered our any of the messages. Charles unloaded his
bag and the gifts he had for us, and we abandoned the car for the night. If
Charles hadn’t missed the exit, his car would’ve expired in front of our house.
He wouldn’t have tried to start it until December 26th. In a
round-about way, missing the exit gave us more and different options.
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| Charles's Focus DOA |
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| Charles's old Focus |
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| Old and unsafe! |
In the mid-80s, we
owned and fiercely loved a Bronco II. I danced in delight when Ford released
information about their newest Bronco and Bronco Sport. Difficult to come by, I
lurked on various dealer websites almost daily in hopes of finding a Bronco
Sport to test drive. My original intension was to order one in early 2022. With
Charles needing a car immediately, finding a Bronco Sport—the Big Bend edition
because of the rough-and-tough interior mats, full-sized spare with the tow
package, fog lights, and air conditioner control for the back passengers.
Our son’s sweeping internet searches found two possibilities in a 50
mile radius from our house. He called to set up appointments with the two,
far-flung dealerships for us to test drive during the afternoon of Christmas
Eve.
Christmas Eve morning
found us entering our credit union as soon as the doors opened. They escorted
us into a small room where we went through the process of applying for a car
loan through a teller in Corpus Christi! Within 35 minutes, we walked out with
a voucher that could cover purchasing the vehicle even if we didn’t do a
trade-in or deposit. The original plan called for doing both, but we’d just
scheduled to have our roof replaced and hadn’t confirmed the final amount. I
didn’t want to dip into those funds if we found a Bronco Sport.
Excited anticipation kicked
into high gear the moment we saw the car on the lot. The test drive sold us.
The sticker price rested perfectly within our budget. The sales person left to
draw up initial paperwork. A glance at my phone confirmed that it wasn’t even
noon. Then shock and anger hit when the dealer attempted to add $4,000 over the
sticker price because this Bronco Sport was only one of two in San Antonio. My
son, who was with us, took the paper from me, looked at it and handed it back
as he told us to leave the dealership. My son’s business acumen shifted in high
gear as he began negotiating a bottom line amount. The manager turned down his
first counter-offer and came back with another one that my son rejected. Within
minutes, it became apparent to the manager that we’d leave if they didn’t match
the amount my son stipulated. More papers. More signatures. More waiting until
we finally drove off with our new car! From the moment we entered our credit
union until we drove from the dealership lot, only five hours had passed.
Christmas Day, we
opened gifts and fixed our traditional brunch. Charles took his “new” Focus for
a spin and sat in amazed wonder. He has a car with doors that open and close, a
windshield that’s not spider-webbed with cracks, a steering wheel that’s not disintegrating,
and an engine that hums. He has a vehicle that’s safe and reliable. Our
unexpected Christmas stress ended with triumph for all of us.
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| Charle's "new" Focus! |
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| Our new Bronco Sport! |
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| New Bronco Sport! |
Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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