Late Bloomer and the Adventures of a Sally

There are many ways to measure progress and success in life, and although people often use similar standards, each person is a little different, and some people use a unique tape altogether. I have found that I have more happiness if I don’t try to apply others’ tapes to my life, or mine to theirs. One of my personal measures is the degree of my financial independence. Although I try to not apply others’ standards to myself, and visa versa, I can’t help comparing the velocity of reaching my standards with that of others’ in their similar life occurrences. And in comparing, I have noticed a pattern that in many aspects of life, I have been a late bloomer. The latest slow start I have noticed is in the area of vehicle ownership. Although I have owned a few other cars in my day, I recently purchased a car completely on my own, that is to say, without any aid from the bank of Strong. The decision to make this purchase came about through a series of events that began with my exodus from Provo….or at least that is my perception of when it began, who really knows?

But before covering the history of the current, I suppose I ought to give a brief description of the first and second cars.  In 2003, when I decided to go back to school and to attend Brigham Young University, I determined it was finally time to progress from peddle and public transportation to supplementing my cycling with car ownership. This car, the first car I owned, was a white 1998 Subaru Legacy hatchback. The white Subaru was trouble almost from the first day I drove it, but lemons are never found out until after the papers are signed. I call it a lemon because that is what I believed at the time, but as I reflect, it was just an old car and when parts of the whole start to wear out, they need repair or replacement. I foolishly thought that I could purchase a car with over 100,000 miles and expect to drive it for the next four years without incident. As for the “trouble”, I am a little hazy on the mechanical details, but there seemed to be a faulty connection between the ignition and the battery, so about 3 times out of 10, the car would not start. My dear mechanic I also call father, showed me how to manually make this connection with an insulated wire, and later installed a button on the interior of the car that did the same thing without me getting out and opening the hood….it was an unconventional fix, but it worked for me and I was happy. Eventually the car developed several oil leaks, the CV joints needed replaced, and after a few years, the engine would not only fail to start without assistance more and more frequently, but also began stalling out after idling at an intersection. So in a way, it was a real blessing when I got in a minor accident that “totaled” the car, and I could use the insurance money to put towards getting a car that was a little newer and had a few less problems.

The second car that was a little newer and had a few less problems was first a loaner from my father after the white Subaru met its demise. Interestingly, the loaner Subaru that I later purchased with help from the parental bank, is also white, but is not so affectionately referred to as “the dog car”….because for a long time it retained a pungent odor from the former owner's K9 companion. In 2009, when I decided that I didn’t want to work for Brigham Young University for the foreseeable future, let alone for the remainder of my career, it was in this dog car that I made my exodus.

My life goals at that point included finding a career (first in continued pursuit of registration and licensure as a dietitian, then later of something new altogether), and becoming financially stable (which included the goal of purchasing a newer car on my own). Not very specific, I know, but it was plenty for me to be getting along with at the time. So I gave notice with my employer at BYU, and continued working towards those goals, but most importantly for me at the time, from a different location. Provo wasn’t working for me, or maybe I wasn’t working for it; regardless of the reason, I got it in my head that it was time to leave and although there were obstacles, there wasn’t much that could have stopped me.  I took a temporary job in McCall Idaho, as a camp cook for the Girl Scouts of America, Silver Sage chapter. It was only for 5 weeks, but it was a way out. So I, my potted cherry tomato plant, and the dog car went to the mountains of Idaho to cook for some girl scouts. I actually have some very fond memories of the few weeks I spent there, but that is another short story for another long day.

When I returned from McCall to my parent’s home, my car had some small issues, but seemed to be holding out alright. So I proceeded with the hope that it would at least last until I could find more permanent employment. I first tried again to obtain an internship for my dietitian registration requirements, but after a third round of rejections, I decided to start evaluating another path. I first started looking for jobs that would not require more educational qualification but my degree wasn’t worth much without the end status of becoming a registered dietitian. Although I was unsuccessful in finding a job, through the process of searching, I learned more about the field of laboratory science and decided that if I had to go through the pain of returning to school for more education, this would be a field worth doing it for. So I started applying to medical laboratory science programs all over the western United States, and just for fun, I also applied to a school in Louisiana (where Martell lived) and one in Florida (where Tim lived). Although I was accepted into a few programs in the west I was only conditionally so until my turn came up from a 1-3 year waiting list. Being anxious to start the process much sooner than these programs offered, I was happily surprised that the school in Florida accepted me with only about 2 months’ notice.  So I, all the belongings I could fit in one load, and the dog car went to the wetlands of Florida to take another crack at building my career. I actually have some very fond memories of the few years I spent there, but that is another long story for another short day.

The dog car served me well in Florida for a while, but eventually it followed a similar path as my previous Subaru, with CV joint replacements, oil leaks, and the added adventure of wearing out and replacing the clutch. At the end of my educational experience, and after much deliberation, I decided to move back to the west to pursue my new career closer to my family. So I, all the belongings I could fit in one load, my father, and the dog car started on the journey back west. Before we even reached the Florida State line, the speedometer stopped working. Before we reached Louisiana, the air conditioning system failed, and before we left Louisiana, the dog car developed an unknown electrical issue that caused the engine to cut out while idling. Dad and I thought and prayed and thought some more about what we should do at this point, and I ultimately decided that we should continue on as long as we could keep going. Eventually, we made it back to Elko Nevada, but dad and I agree that it wasn’t without divine intervention. When I left Elko for my new destination, the dog car was unofficially retired until it could be determined whether or not revival was possible. So I left in another Strong-loaner car until I could save enough to replace my own worn out Subaru. So that just about does it; the condensed history of my first two cars.

When I found employment in October 2014, I set a goal to get the loaner back to my parents by the end of February. I had originally thought to purchase a car that was no older than five years, to purchase the car with a loan from a corporate but undetermined financial institution, and to have a modest car payment for at least two years. I hadn’t really considered purchasing from a private party because I felt more confident in trusting the history of the car if I went with a dealership opposed to a private stranger.  But when a trusted Floridian friend of mine pointed out the fortuitous coincidence of my desire to purchase at the same time it became necessary for him to sell, I began to consider the private route. After much internal deliberation I decided that although there would be an added expense and complication in transporting the car across the country, the mutual benefits would outweigh the difficulties. So although February was the original goal, it wasn’t until March that I decided what car to purchase and finally in April 2014 at age 32, I found my very first car to purchase on my own, and without assistance from the bank of Strong. Congratulations to a late blooming me.

My new-old car is a silver 1999 Acura Integra, coupe. Her previous owner named her Sally, so sometimes she is known as the Sally-car, although not often, so as not to confuse her with the Sally that is not a car, but the rather adorable daughter of my Martell.  Included is a photo featuring a Sally, side by side with the loaner Subaru, which actually wont make it to its own new destination until some time in June or July. I include it mostly for Mom who requested it, and is likely the only one reading this post. Non-monetized blogging is so two years ago.