Money, Pain, and New Cars
The Diminishing Analgesic Effects of Wealth
When I was 12 years old, my dad took me to the dentist to get my first cavity filled. “By the way,” he said as we walked into the office, “don’t get the novocaine – it’s $20.”
My father was a very good man—the most decent, humble person I’ve ever known. But he was so frugal and required so little material fulfillment in his own life that maybe he had trouble understanding other people’s desire for teeny-tiny luxuries like anesthesia.
Ten minutes later, as Dr. Stalling’s drill tore into my virgin molar and the acrid stench of pulverized tooth filled the air, I writhed in agony and dug my fingernails into the arm of the dentist’s chair. Then and there, I made myself a promise: “Someday, I’m going to make some goddamn money.” Because, in certain cases, money literally relieves pain.
I was thinking about this the other day while driving my new car. After ten years, I traded in my Tesla for a new Mercedes SUV. It’s a beautiful piece of German engineering (by way of Alabama), and I still get excited when I see it. However, as tasty as my new ride is, it’s nowhere close to the most thrilling automobile purchase I have ever made. That honor belongs to the 1994 Saturn SL2.
In 1994, I was three years out of college, and the real world was kicking my ass. My employer paid me a whopping $25,000 salary, but—thanks mostly to repair bills on the 12-year-old Honda Accord I drove—I had already incurred $4,000 in credit card debt, a seemingly insurmountable balance.
Hondas are famous for being reliable, but mine was possessed by the devil. Every morning when I turned the key, it was a game of will she or won’t she start? While I idled at stop lights, I heard the nausea-inducing pings, clunks, and crunches that foreshadowed another $800 invoice from Vinny the Mechanic and a maxed-out Visa. Dread was my co-pilot.
A car is often an outward sign of how its owner’s life is going. With a cracked windshield, a temperamental transmission, and an A/C that blew only dirt and dead spiders, my vehicle’s accurate signals did not enhance my dating life, especially in the sticky heat of Memphis, TN. No young woman riding shotgun and sweating through her Counting Crows t-shirt is thinking, “I just have to make babies with this winner!”
But good news lurked on the horizon! By hitting a few ambitious goals at work, I earned myself a promotion and a $7,500 raise (30% bump, f-er!), which allowed me to finance a new car.
Thus did I acquire a brand new Saturn SL2 on a Sunday afternoon from a salesman with a John Stossel mustache. The transaction drastically improved my life, delivering transportational serenity in a way none of my subsequent luxury car purchases would, regardless of the massive disparity in amenities.
Consider this: my new SUV is loaded with a 362-HP engine, leather interior, 20” spoke wheels, a symphony-quality sound system, and seats that blow chilled air up my crack. My Saturn, on the other hand, was a tin can with bicycle tires, a moped engine, and AM/FM cassette player. Yet, as unsexy as Salty the Saturn was, I loved her.
Why? Easy—she started when asked, ran without complaint, and sipped gas with teetotalling restraint. But most of all, Salty removed chaos from my life. Instead of the pain of repair bills, I had a predictable and very reasonable monthly car payment. Instead of jungle-caliber humidity, I had air conditioning. Instead of a cringe-inducing junker, I had a shot with the ladies.
Before you say “money won’t make you happy,” qualify it with the phrase “beyond a certain point.” A recent Bankrate survey found that 56% of Americans can’t cover a $1,000 emergency expense with savings. That means more than half of us are constantly navigating an endless series of financial crises. When their car breaks down, they get a speeding ticket or have a fender-bender, they are screwed. If you told these folks that money—say $5,000—wouldn’t improve their life, they would laugh in your clueless face. It might not solve all their problems, but it would get them through the month.
When you live on the cusp of financial chaos, every step away from the economic abyss relieves pain: the fear of uncertainty, the lack of self-determination, and the doubt in oneself. Of course, this pain is psychic as opposed to physical, but it is every bit as real as having one’s bicuspid torn to shreds by a spinning metal spike.
At lower economic levels, small increments of money deliver narcotic bliss and push us away from threats to our subsistence. But as we save money and build wealth, additional funds contribute less and less to our overall well-being. Economists call this decreasing marginal utility, and—to me—there’s no better example than buying new cars.
Going from a beater like my old Honda to a reliable new Saturn is a booster rocket for your self-esteem. But when you trade in a used Tesla for a new Mercedes, you are not extinguishing pain. You’re just drizzling a little extra chocolate sauce on the ice cream sundae that is your life. The danger here is that—because it doesn’t provide the same exhilaration as past purchases—we forget how amazing it is to not have imminent catastrophe riding in the backseat.
You can’t appreciate this lack of chaos in your life if you don’t notice it. So the next time your car starts, think, “this is good.” When you drive past the mechanic who used to have you over a barrel, say out loud, “not anymore, Vinny.” And if you ever feel a comfy breeze blowing up your skirt or trousers, remind yourself just how far up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Automotive Needs you’re living.
There’s nothing better than self-determination, which is what my Saturn represented to me. I was solving real-world problems and figuring out life as an adult. It was novocaine for my soul, and I’ll never forget it.
THE END
Speaking of cars, this week on Crazy Money, I discuss actual scientific research into the question of whether women find men in nice cars more attractive. Will you be shocked or absolutely not surprised? Either way, it will make you think.
Here are some other things that might be interesting to you. Or not…
My pal and former Crazy Money guest, Jared Dillian’s new book Those Bastards came out this week. He writes with candor and honesty about wealth, investing, and life in general. His book Street Freak is one of my favorites about Wall Street. Check it out.
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