#60: pay off my car ahead of schedule

 In 2006, they doled out 6-year car loans to young people like me who really, really wanted a new car. After signing all the paperwork, I remember realizing that I would be months into my 31st year by the time I paid off the loan in full, during a time when I figured we would for sure be riding a light rail and driving electric cars everywhere, making my gas-fueled vehicle obsolete.

Let's remember me in 2006.

I was 24 years old. 

Like many 24-year-olds, I was relishing some tastes of adulthood, but like a good beer, it would take awhile before I could really appreciate it and understand the complexity.

I had just learned how to knit and had started a blog. It was kind of the dawning of my craft life.

I was living in Browne's Addition and was excited to cook for myself.

I was riding the bus regularly to work and considered myself to be a half-assed environmental bohemian.

I listened to enough progressive jazz to last me for the rest of my life.

I was enthralled with Six Feet Under, as well as alpacas.

I was in charge of a Phonathon and worked two freelance gigs and had just opened a retirement account.

I had $1,200 burning in my pocket from my still-driveable car being totaled, and the only thing that made sense to spend it on was a down payment for a new car, of course.

So, seemingly the next morning, I took my then-boyfriend with me to the Toyota dealership, and by the afternoon we were getting wallet-sized photos made of us standing in front of the Matrix before driving it home. (It was a really weird service they provided every new car owner; it was not my idea). [Sidenote: I remember the outfit I wore that day and really miss those shoes and jeans.]

Nevertheless, it was my first big purchase, my first big commitment. My first gigantic case of buyer's remorse.

Last week, before taking it on its umpteenth road trip, I dropped the payoff amount in the mail. Just for the record, I'm still 29. My 30-year-old self will only be making the necessary payments to maintain the life of the car, because I have no intention of buying another car. That half-assed environmental bohemian still dreams of a day when I live somewhere where I don't need one.