Like, dude ... rad ride

by BD Pisani - 2007 jan 23

I'm not a lesbian, don't play softball, nor am I a fan of the Grateful Dead. I don't wear Birkenstocks and no longer find anything appealing about San Francisco. I think Aspen and Vail are nothing more than high-altitude, icicle-laden Palm Beach or South Beach wannabes, and just as phony. But I do wear flannel and as of last Saturday, I am now the owner of a Subaru.

That's right — a Subaru — a Subaru Forester to be precise.

After much contemplation, I deduced that the operating cost of my 12-mile-per-gallon Dodge Ram truck was hampering my ability to indulge in the finer things in life, like food, clothing, and paying the electric bill. That determined, I laid out a plan to find and purchase a dependable, economical used vehicle to add to the B2 stable of luxury motorcars. But which model to buy?

Enter my friend Randy.

Convoluted logic

Randy never met an off-kilter thought he did not embrace. He not only marches to the beat of a different drummer, he struts through life to a syncopated rhythm melange that is equal parts conga line, Jack-In-The-Box theme, and the 1812 Overture finale. But there are three things in this world of which Randy is the supreme keeper of all knowledge, and one of them is conveyances powered by internal combustion engines.

He would go to jail if I mention the other two.

After negotiating with Randy for what seemed liked days (you never discuss anything with him — you must fight for your life), he determined the ideal B2-mobile using the following progression:

  • 1. B2 was born an Upstate New Yorker, a cow-tipping, stump-jumping hayseed and would not be happy unless he had full-time 4-wheel drive;
  • 2. B2 outgrew the wrench-throwing, knuckle-busting, obscenity-screaming shade tree mechanic stage long ago and therefore needs something dependable;
  • 3. B2 has stuff and hauls stuff, therefore he needs a vehicle with stuff room;
  • 4. B2 is a penniless miscreant who happens to drive a great deal, so he needs a vehicle that is extremely economical to run and maintain;
  • 5. B2 is not pretentious so he needs a vehicle without glitz and glitter; and
  • 6. B2 is a hayseed (see number 1 above) so he needs a vehicle that will keep him alive when he meets up with the ubiquitous 350-pound white-tail deer he will almost certainly hit.

Et voila! The Forester was his obvious choice and I couldn't agree more. As Randy stated, no doubt hearkening back to the days when we both owned dozens of super dependable, fix with bobby pins, air-cooled, four-stroke, 36-horsepower Beetles, "Hey man, think of a Subaru as a water-cooled Volkswagen, only safer."

Randy logic at its best.

Oy vey, eBay

Under the tutelage of a work colleague — an Internet auction fanatic who will in all probability die with his userid and password as his last words, I decided to enter the unknown (to me) world of eBay Motors.

Filled with trepidation and the fear of a long-distance rip-off, I dutifully registered with the eBay Web site and began a months-long search for my Subaru, limiting the distance for the purchase location to within 750 miles of my home (hey, another excuse for road trip!).

It's hard to wrap your arms around the notion of buying a vehicle without first seeing it, smelling it, driving it, or — as they say — kicking the tires. Nevertheless, I researched the Subaru Forester ad nausium, determined the model best suited for my needs, set a monetary buying limit, and jumped into the eBay pool feet first.

Ahem. Well. Something strange and unlooked-for occurred.

I found the experience to be not only enjoyable but downright fun. Thanks to the online CarFax site, a seller's rating system and history file, and eBay's rigid standards and helpful tips, I located a vehicle I was willing to buy at a price within my limit.

In fact, of all the dozens of vehicle transactions in which I have participated, this was by far the most hassle-free. The only problem I discovered was that Subaru owners tend to hang on to their vehicles due to their dependability, hence when you find them they have been well-used. But the worst part was waiting to see if I won the auction for the vehicle, and even that was a hoot — kind of like waiting to see if you won the Lotto and then actually doing so.

The seller was a small-sized dealer in DeBary, Florida — about two and one-half hours north from Little Martin as the brown pelican flies. Not much of a road trip but I met the seller's wife and children as well, and had a down-home meal at the DeBary Diner (a must-stop if you are ever in DeBary). The Forester? It's a white 2003 and in even better shape than what was described in the eBay listing. Life is good.

So there you have it. I now own a Subaru. Of course, I must wear flannel and a ball cap when driving it and it wouldn't hurt if I had some cow patty residue on my boots, but lucky for me I am not required to play softball, and my buddy Miguel at the Texaco station is going to see less of me.

And my Ram truck? She's all polished up, sitting in the driveway, fat and happy. Rest assured that every couple of weeks I'll take her for a spin and cut that big Hemi loose so she doesn't feel neglected.

But only on payday so I can afford the fuel.