After an early morning oil change, a midday donut splurge and a late afternoon series of on-line address changes that perfectly wore me to the ground, a thoroughly unanticipated result has ensued. It was I suppose a full-circle project because it began and ended on a similar note. To be specific the morning started early today at Lincoln Heights car dealership in order to have my Aviator’s oil changed; and all that that entails. The day’s activity primarily ended late this afternoon with unpredicted research of a new (but related) automobile called the Corsair. In fairness, I was prompted unwittingly to pursue this particular line of retail “investment” only because one of the leading sales representatives of the dealership highlighted to me the vast improvement of this entry level model (the Corsair), one of the Lincoln line-up of SUVs.

Now for most purpose this investigation by me would be considered either premature or redundant.  You see I already own an Aviator which I just got 5 months ago and which has only – pardon me while I check my Lincoln Way App – 9,342 miles.

Yet for those who know me, I have customarily bought a new car every year. This year for the first time I am in doubt about the propriety of doing so. The stock market has declined; and, perhaps as importantly, in view of the unattractiveness of new shiny metal again so soon in my present car’s life and so late in my own, there might be value owning the vehicle I’ve already got a bit longer.

Unquestionably this makes sense.  Nonetheless – yes, I know, here it comes – I cling unperturbed to the stock adage, “You can’t win at a game of cars!”.  Or words to that effect. You know, that business about facing the music, paying the piper, blah-blah-blah! In short it’s not a boxing ring I wish to enter.  So the boxing gloves come off and the transaction is settled as it should; that is, by favourable handshakes.

Competing against this otherwise riveting rationale is the more visceral comment that there are a couple of things at my age to keep in mind.  One is my age; that is, someone my age doesn’t need a new toy. The other is even more practical; and that is that I may not be able (or I may not wish) to drive much longer. We’ve considered further two related matters.  One, we may not wish to drive to Florida every year so we’d end leaving a perfectly new car in the garage for a long time.  The other more equally predictable possibility is that because of declining health or longevity I may not be qualified to drive any longer.

Against this competing backdrop of profligacy, pragmatism and foresight comes the Corsair. Its relevance is singular. I have been informed that the Corsair has all the bells and whistles of the Aviator. And trust me that is no small compliment!  Many times I have remarked that the Aviator is the most comfortable, quiet, smooth and electronically savvy vehicle I have ever driven.  And I have had three of them, one each year they’ve been made.  Which is what makes it especially difficult to contemplate shifting from one model to another. The truth is that at my age and within reason the overwhelming preoccupation ain’t saving it for the future. Thus the Aviator continues to hold sway.

The rebuttal to that bit of intransigence is that the Corsair is more manageable than the Aviator.  It’s impossible to avoid the observation that two old fogeys with no grandchildren don’t need a 7-passenger vehicle. There may even be a safety feature buried in that statement. The Corsair may as well succeed to a universal acknowledgement of an aging population; and, one which is more immediately eager to achieve the anticipated heights of electric vehicles.

The inevitable question – well, once again, there are two of them – first, what’s the cost difference; and, second, if you get what you pay for, what’s missing? This comes back to a variation of the first obstacle; namely, don’t fix what ain’t broke.  Which raises another issue – what about just stick with the status quo, don’t get a new car?

Now you see I’ve gone and tied myself in knots!  Such dilemma!  I confess however that the anticipation of downsizing within the vehicular vernacular is persuasive.  It makes me feel uncommonly perspicuous!