Driven By Desire

After seven years and 97,000+ miles, my car gave me clear notice that I had a choice; either replace it or spend about $4,000 to get it back into shape.  

And so I entered the world of new car shopping.  There were two different cars I was considering, so I visited two different dealers. The experiences were an eye opening exercise in being manipulated by desire.  The first dealership greeted me enthusiastically and answered all my questions. When I asked to test drive a four cylinder basic model car, they produced one and sent me on my way. I liked the car; it was the updated model of my former car. It was comfortable, the new contours were streamlined and appealing, and the mileage was very good. It was also not an expensive car.  I left saying I'd like to think it over; the saleswoman graciously encouraged me to do so and to return at my convenience. The second dealership also greeted me enthusiastically.  However, the car they provided for me to test drive was not the four cylinder basic model I had phoned ahead and asked for. Instead it was a BEAUTIFUL bright red, 6 cylinder fully loaded car with every option I'd ever heard of and at least two that I didn't know existed. It boasted power everything: doors, seats, windows, locks; on-board navigation, cruise control, redundant sound controls on the steering wheel, separate air conditioning controls and vents for the back seat, a Bose sound system, tinted windows, and push button ignition, along with a new safety feature built into the key-less entry system.  While the electronic push button start spooked me after a recent electronic malfunction nightmare, there was a back-up key system. Oh, and the sunroof- did I  mention the sunroof? The car would do just about everything but talk to me, and I swear that was probably an option if I'd wanted to pay for it. The sales man insisted that I'd get the same feel for the car if I drove this one as I would if I drove what I'd asked for, which now seemed pretty puny by comparison. Besides, if I really insisted on test driving a different car, it was going to take him a while to get it out from it's gridlocked position in the back lot. Never mind that I had called ahead; never mind that I knew this was a marketing ploy; never mind that I was never, not in a million years, going to buy this particular car- I graciously got in rather than put him to the trouble of getting what I'd asked for and I drove the super power car.

Boy, did it drive! It was smooth, it was quiet, and it was wonderful. It handled as if it was part of me; responding to every move I made, seamlessly.  The driver's seat (with its own power controls) wrapped me in comfort, supporting my back and cradling my sensitive aging joints with well cushioned upholstery.  The air conditioning simply happened; there was no blast of hot air in my face to start and no stream of cold air to freeze my head while the rest of me simmered either. There were so many vents that the whole vehicle just seemed to cool off spontaneously.  The sound system made me think I was at the symphony, and the sunroof illuminated the interior with natural light.  When it comes to mode of transportation, heaven may provide this car for the angels; winged flight would be more work than this ride.  I drove around in a very big circle, down country roads, out onto the highway, and back to the dealership.  With the exception of the non-stop chatter meant to be encouraging from the salesperson in the back seat, it was an amazing experience. Of course, when we got back to the dealership, the sales pitch kicked into high gear. Did I like the car? Of course! Anyone with eyes to see would like the car! Did I feel how smooth the ride was, did I recognize how well appointed the car was, did I understand how the features would keep me safer and get me wherever I was going better than anything else I'd driven? Again, of course. I understood all of these things. I also understood a sales pitch when I heard one, and I wasn't particularly impressed with the lengths the salesman was going to to pitch his product. It was amusing; I felt like I'd stepped back in time to an era when consumers were ignorant of how they were enticed to consume, when advertising was regarded as factual and true instead of pitched to get a particular response. I didn't appreciate the rather obvious ploys to entice me to buy this car. As an educated consumer, a person aware of the dynamics of desire and the tactics used to elicit it, I had thought myself, if not quite immune, at least beyond the reach of such techniques. And in many ways, I was. I easily ignored the chatter about the cars desirability, instead measuring my own experience up against the first one in my head and discovering to my horror that I WANTED this one. I did. I really wanted all the bells and whistles, all the comfort and luxury, all the special power features. After all- it would keep me safer- and who could argue with safety as a legitimate reason for making a purchase?  Wasn't that why I was buying a new car in the first place?  Ultimately the salesman's full frontal attack wore thin, and I had no trouble telling him that I was leaving without purchasing the car. I knew I had been set up and manipulated to bring me to the point of desire for this car. I could see and name just how that was accomplished. What stunned me was that it worked. While I found the sales pitch to be so obnoxious that I'd have gone to another dealership for the same car if I'd decided to buy it, I was deeply surprised by the desire that the experience of driving the car aroused in me. Why shouldn't I have this car? Why shouldn't I spend my money this way?  Didn't I deserve it? Wasn't I worth it?  I have to tell you that I honestly felt different about myself when surrounded by luxury, and recognizing that horrifies me.  What brought me back to my senses was the encouragement from both the sales agent and my husband to "buy what will make you happy." That did it. I know that a car will not make me happy. Many things in life contribute meaningfully to my happiness, but cars have never been one of them. Teetering on the edge of losing my own identity in the desirability of the car, I backed off and said no. No, I was not buying the car, at least not today. I'd have to think about it.

I think the salesman and I were equally crushed. He because he had failed to sell me the car; me because he almost succeeded. What he didn't know was that it would take me another two days before I could embrace the first car with anything resembling enthusiasm. Cars are powerful symbols in our culture, and as such they are powerfully desirable objects. I had to literally back off and review my own desires before I could make a rational decision about which car to buy. I went home and considered other cars that weren't even initially in the running, so disturbing was this process.  Ultimately, my decision was still driven by desire, but at least I can say that I was able to separate my genuine desires from the cultural overdrive of desire that I was caught up in. There's no way out of it; desire is what moves us in life to love and compassion and response to the gospel just as surely as it is what distracts us from those very same pursuits.

This experience of temptation and desire was a healthy surprise for me; I really don't care about cars, never have and probably never will. Yet even I was tempted to buy more than I needed or wanted by the images and experience that luxury conveyed. It was a powerful reminder that we are indeed driven by desire.  The response to an old slogan may be appropriate here: "If God is your co-pilot, switch seats." 

I bought the first car.  And I'd like to think I switched seats.

nancy hitt.

Comments

[mary]

Wow, thanks for the play by play on this one. Up close and personal study. We who drive cars - been there! @ our upcoming T&P conference, I'll show you my AVEO and share my New Mexico stories about it!