Or, we might call this, “new adventures in shopping.” For those readers not familiar with our dear friend, Lady Peacock, or as she’s known to her closest friends, the Duchess of Cadbury, (we just call her “mum” in casual settings), I would recommend an introduction. You’ll get just a taste in previous blogs, “A Trip to Remember”, “In Quarantine”, “A Diet in Action”, and my personal favorite, “Snacks Without Borders”.
Well, the time had come (because the lease was running out) for Lady Peacock to replace her car. This is not an easy decision for her. Actually, no decision is easy for Lady Peacock. I mentioned this some time ago, but perhaps it’s worth repeating. She enters decision-making with the best of intentions, but it comes out like something akin to the stages of grief with a few more twists, turns, and some doubling back: agonizing indecision, tripping over new possibilities, more agonizing, making a purchase, circling back with more . . . . . If it’s clothes or home furnishings, there are often several layers of returns and exchanges. For someone working actively in psychology, this could be a video series.
Be that as it may, she’s been doing some research. There was not much chance that she’d be a repeat customer at the dealership from whence the leased vehicle came. In fact, I don’t really recall a time in which she’s done business with the same dealer twice. In fairness, the car she’s turning in did have some issues that were not complete and safisfactorily resolved. What she really, really wanted was a luxury SUV, which a male friend has and she quite envies. I won’t identify the car manufacturer in the interests of preventing litigation. (Let’s just say it’s logo is four interconnected hoops and comes from a country that rhymes with “bermany”). I suggested that, before getting one of those, she check into the cost of maintenance, repairs, and insurance. When she spoke to her insurance agent and picked herself up off the floor, that was ruled out. Lady Peacock would have to settle for either a domestic or less expensive import.
I’ve never actually seen Lady Peacock in negotiations, but I have a hunch it’s not unlike the French and Germans at the Treaty of Versailles. Car salespeople, a feisty and determined bunch have more than met their match with Lady P. In the first place, she won’t “settle”. My wife and I don’t really dicker much. We find something that we like and is in a price range we can afford. Whatever it comes with is what we’ll live with. My sister-in-law once remarked that she couldn’t believe that our car had no back-up cameras. To be honest, I’ve never felt a compelling need for them. I don’t recall ever backing into anything, and all the cars we’ve had fortunately came equipped with mirrors. I’m fine with that. Although I will say that Her Ladyship might recommend the warnings that tell you when you’re wandering out of your lane, but I personally don’t think I need that. Herself raises a ruckus if I’m coming close to the lane designation line, and now I often hear comments from the Princess in the back seat too. I have a dual warning system that’s faster, louder, and more frantic than anything car designers can come up with. However, I digress.
In Lady Peacock’s world, the term “loaded” is merely the starter package. It’s the minimum amount of luxury that she’ll tolerate. She needs to be surrounded by leather, because we all know that a cloth seat is just half a step above a wooden bench in a buckboard. But not just any leather. It needs to be imported from a country where cows are grass fed, bathed in warm water daily, and only exercised delicately on a Thigh Master. It goes without saying that the seats must have least a half dozen heat settings, and fully adjustable up to and including the “Jaws of Life.” Ideally, when she unlocks the car, the driver seat should jump out of the car and snap to attention. Once she’s aboard, the seat should smoothly and comfortable reinstall itself and the car door unobtrusively close, the engine should start itself, and the car should back itself safely and with assurance out of the garage. You are perhaps familiar with those new cars that parallel park themselves? In Lady P.’s world, that’s a nice start.
It’s been mentioned too that in the world of Lady Peacock, all roads that she intends to use should be cleared in advance so that she’ll have no traffic jams, obstructions, pesky other drivers, or construction projects impeding her progress. All driving should be a straight shot. In the event that there is a holdup, she will have her emergency snacks in the back. Again, I refer the reader to previous writings that describe the emergency snacks in detail. Let’s just say that on one occasion, Lady P. was stopped at a roadwork project for almost 20 minutes, and was saved from certain starvation by her emergency cracker supply. It’s also possible that there were remnants of a Starbucks stop in a cup holder too.
The new vehicle is adequate but not much more. In a recent phone call, she lamented that two items in particular were sadly lacking, and for which the dealer did not adequately prepare her. Item #1 – the steering wheel is not, I repeat, is NOT heated. Can you imagine putting your hands on a cold steering wheel here in the tundra conditions of New England? I can’t. Then again, I’ve been known to wear gloves.
Item #2 – When Lady Peacock has arrived at her destination and shut the engine off, the driver seat does not, and I again repeat for emphasis, does NOT slide back all the way automatically so that she can emerge from the car with all of her regal dignity intact. No, she has to move the seat back herself, and then presumably move it back into the “driving” position for her next voyage. I know, I know what you’re thinking. She might as well be in a covered wagon crossing the prairie.
Item #3 – This just in yesterday in a phone conversation. The new car has a serious technological deficiency. What, a safety issue, you ask? The brakes don’t react when she edges up over 45 mph or glides closer and closer to the breakdown lane? No, not really. The car does not allow her to dictate texts into her phone while driving, as apparently her previous vehicle did. This would be important, whether she’s keeping up her myriad social correspondence while in the car, arranging get-togethers with her men friends, or issuing executive orders for Southern New Hampshire. This deficiency could be a serious setback to the information superhighway, the perfect order of society, and it deals a blow to the only concrete example of Lady Peacock’s ability to multitask.
On a bright note, it appears that Lady P. does like the color of the new car. It’s lovely shade of . . wait for it . . . . . blue. Not sure if that makes up for the missing levels of luxury that Lady Peacock has come to expect, demand, and value. There could be muscle strain from moving the seat back and forth manually, and perhaps even frostbite from an unheated steering wheel. Those of us in her inner circle are prepared that the next couple of years, or until the Blue Chariot is replaced, will be a just a wee bit bumpier.
Warmest regards to my readers, as always, on a chilly morning.
I'm Thinking...No! 