Oh No! I Have a New Car!

You really CAN Google anything. So when you type in, "Afraid to drive my new car," you find many people have already pondered this condition.

Because the fear is real. As a New York City dweller, I've managed to avoid buying a new car my entire life. But when our old car — our $2000 Honda from "The Land Before Time" — recently gave up the ghost (of Grover Cleveland), it was time to find a new one. And a new old one was just too confusing.

And expensive! The shortage of junkers, clunkers and emissions-test-flunkers is not imaginary. I mean, they're out there — but for $2000, they are not. Two thousand gets you a goat with prostate problems.

So the husband and I got ourselves to a car dealership and sat there wondering, "The salesman says that these cars are flying off the lot. Is that true? He says that his 'friend' was driving a rival car and its wheels spun out on the first snow. True? He says he's been driving an older model of this very car for years and it purrs like an ocelot. Do ocelots actually purr? How would he know? Seriously — does he have one? That's weird. And illegal! GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN! WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!"

Internal dialog be damned, he reeled us in like a bass paralyzed with self-doubt, and now we own a car so completely of the moment that I am not sure if pressing the big button turns on the car or materializes a hologram of Justin Bieber.

And what of the five different levels of headlight brightness? There's Searching-for-the-Von-Trapp-Family-Singers bright, Open-Heart-Surgery-Room bright, Crest-White-Strips-But-for-Cars bright, Read-the-Owners-Manual-by-the-Side-of-the-Road bright (don't ask) and apparently one to set the mood for roadkill.

As for the interface with the phone — yes, I get that that this became standard when Sasha and Malia were still playing tag with the Secret Service guys. But remember: Until last week, I was driving a car whose original color was teal. Remember when cars had colors? Of course not, because now every car is black, white, gray or silver, which sounds like four colors but is really three because gray and silver are the same.

Ours happens to be white, upping the "Wow, you need a car wash" factor. Its snowy perfection disturbs me to the point where I find myself fantasizing about a minor fender-bender with, say, a parking meter, so no one's hurt and there's just a little dent and a scratch that can get to work on rusting.

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Otherwise, I am suffering from "Vehophobia," a condition Google says is manifested by "the fear of driving." It can come on after an accident, or if you've been a victim of road rage, or I'd add, if until now you had been driving a car that so old that the sign in the rear window sign said, "Lindbergh Baby on Board."

On the Quora website where someone had asked, "Why do I fear driving a new car?", a commenter kindly replied, "Not knowing you personally, I would say you don't want to cause any damage to your new pride and joy."

That sounds right. Except it's not my pride and joy. It's my giant, scary, thingy-filled investment that, in about 15 years or so, I think I will feel very comfortable driving. So long as the Bieber's still there with me.