Fully Unsupervised

I’ve written previously about the isolation and loneliness that can accompany the life of a single old guy. But one of the more attractive aspects of being entirely unattached is the freedom to make decisions that may appear non-logical, impulsive, or perhaps just plain crazy. I’m accountable to no one. I can go a little nuts whenever I want, and there is no one around to intervene.

A recent example comes to mind.

So there I was, innocently watching television, when a Subaru commercial appeared featuring the redesigned 2026 Crosstrek. Now, I have owned three Subarus over the years: a 1999 Forester, a 2007 Forester, and my current 2020 Crosstrek. Naturally, I paid attention.

Wow, lookin’ good, I thought.

On a whim, I picked up my iPad, visited the website for our local Subaru dealership, and began browsing inventory. Before long, I found myself looking at a blue 2026 Crosstrek and noticing a button inviting me to receive an online trade-in quote for my current vehicle. Foolishly, I took the bait. I answered a few questions, anticipating that they might respond with either an attractively optimistic number, or at least a reasonable range.

Instead, what followed was a parade of generic emails from the dealership’s “internet sales” department, none of which really answered my question. I replied more than once, attempting to redirect the conversation back toward the trade-in value. Eventually, an actual human being emailed me with a range.

The low end was mildly discouraging. The high end, however, got my attention.

More emails followed. Eventually, they persuaded me to stop by so they could evaluate the car in person. While my Crosstrek was out being test-driven, the salesman asked whether he could also put together numbers on a new vehicle.

I shrugged and said “sure.”

What came back was disappointing. They valued my trade-in (low mileage! very clean!) at the absolute bottom of the quoted range while simultaneously presenting a rather ambitious price for the new Crosstrek that most interested me. So I walked.

To be fair, I had warned them from the beginning that I was mostly window shopping and not particularly serious about buying a car right now. The sales manager followed up afterward, and I reiterated that point. I also informed him, diplomatically enough, that the salesman he had assigned me was not someone from whom I would ever purchase a vehicle.

More emails followed.

Would I consider a used vehicle? A different trim level? Another salesperson? (“I have just the guy.”)

And honestly, the sales manager seemed sincere. (Or am I just naïve?) He appeared genuinely interested in finding a way to make a deal happen. So I kept casually browsing inventory online and eventually noticed another Crosstrek that checked most of the boxes, especially the safety-related features I cared about. I agreed to come back in, meet Joseph, the alternate salesman, and take a test drive.

2026 Subaru Crosstrek Premium

Well, of course, that was doom.

The new interior was even more cockpit-like than my current car. It drove beautifully. It looked terrific. The entire thing felt smooth, quiet, and just futuristic enough to flatter me into imagining myself as the sort of person who should own one.

I agreed to let them run the numbers again.

I still balked. The trade-in figure remained lower than I wanted, and I had become increasingly fixated on including an extended warranty in any final deal. One of my thoughts at that stage was this: if I could get a new car with a seven-year warranty, I would probably be set, vehicle-wise, until age 86. (Honestly, who knows if I will even be alive that long, much less still driving?! But this did feel like a legitimate plan.)

So naturally, we went back and forth on the numbers for a bit. Eventually, they came close enough to the bottom-line figure I had in mind and, after a very long afternoon, I drove off the lot in a new 2026 Crosstrek.

There was no one around to question my choices. Or stop me. Freedom and loneliness, it turns out, often arrive as part of the same package.


Soundtrack Suggestion

Baby, you can drive my car
Yes, I’m gonna be a star
Baby, you can drive my car
And maybe I’ll love you

Beep-beep, beep-beep, yeah

(“Drive My Car” — The Beatles)


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