I’ve wanted to own one of these since I was a teenager…

Reisender

Now there’s a happy face.  That’s my new 2008 Mercedes-Benz c300, the U.S. version of which was just released for sale last month on my birthday.  I took it as an omen.  Also, the rush of satisfaction I experienced the first time I sat in one at the dealership. 

It was more, much more then I Like It.  It was This Is Me.  I’ve seen very few cars in my lifetime that didn’t have at least one small detail of style and design that I didn’t care for.  A nice body with a weirdly shaped grill.  Nice leather seats over carpeting that seemed to have been borrowed from the local miniature golf course.  Instrument panels that were either too cluttered or not informative enough.  But from the moment I set eyes on the new c class, I was completely entranced.  There is nothing, nothing about the design of this car that I don’t find attractive.  It drives with that same solid, substantial feel to it that every Mercedes sedan I’ve ever rode in has.  It not only has state-of-the-art technological gizmos galore, they all make sense.  This car is, to my eye, extravagantly beautiful, inside and out, and yet there is not one superfluous thing about it.  Naturally, your mileage may vary, but if a car is a statement, no car I have ever owned has ever been more Me then this one.  I knew it the moment I sat in one.

I’d just finished paying off the Accord, and I stressed for weeks about whether or not to do this now, or wait a bit longer.  But I’ve been waiting for so long.  I have several old Mercedes-Benz brochures going back to the 1980s in my storage bins, from when I almost thought one of the least expensive sedans might…might just…finally be within my reach.  It never happened.  Mostly it was that for so much of my life I’ve lived right at the edge of poverty.  Partly it was that when I was living well, I was too afraid to spend a lot of money on anything, let alone a new car.  And then, in the 1990s, Mercedes quality took a nosedive.  I’d begun making good money as a software developer by then, and I could have afforded the c-class then, but I kept taking a pass.  The old Mercedes reliability wasn’t there, and I just hated the design of the dash and the passenger compartment.  And it was too small a car for the asking price.

As I said, I’d just finished paying off the Accord, and for kicks and grins decided to look around.  A friend of mine in Northern Virginia had bought himself an Acura TL, and it was just lovely.  It had a nicely fitted leather interior, the bluetooth cell phone connectivity and the video navigation system.  And you could control almost everything via spoken commands if you didn’t want to be taking your hands off the steering wheel.  I looked at that car and though to myself that I’d been making good money now for over a decade, why don’t I have a nice car like this?

Well for one thing, I was raised not to want luxuries.  Of all the deadly sins pounded into my head while growing up Baptist, I think my household regarded Pride as the worst, followed closely by Vanity.  So all my life I’ve pulled back from spending more for something, just because I found it beautiful.  When comparing products, if the plain no-frills version did the job just as well, then I bought that, and…no kidding, this is how thoroughly they pounded it into me when I was a kid, felt a twinge of guilt just for desiring the more beautiful one.

But to want beauty in your world, for its own sake, isn’t vanity.  Rationally and logically I’ve accepted this for years.  But emotionally, down in my gut, it’s been hard to overcome the way I was raised.  There is a difference between spending a lot of money on something like a car, just for the status value, just to make people envy you, and spending the money because you you really admire the craftsmanship, the engineering, and the art of its makers.  It takes your breath away, verses you think it makes you somebody.  I know this rationally.  I think I’m finally comfortable with it now emotionally.  I was raised for so long, so very very long, to fear taking joy in material things, lest I loose sight of spiritual things.  But there are harmful extremes on both sides of that scale.

I did the math, and looked long and hard at my budget.  I’d paid off the Accord quickly, and so it had a lot of trade-in value, and that made buying the Mercedes make more financial sense then it would have otherwise.  Thing is, paying for this car will not be a hardship, even with the other obligations I have currently.  Of course, I could put the money to some more practical use, or just stash it away in savings until I needed to spend it on something more practical.  But…see that smile?  There’s, really, all the reason beauty needs.  I only wish I could thank each and every person whose hands called steel and copper and aluminum and glass and fabric and plastic and rubber and leather and little bits of silicone and software code into becoming this car.  All the engineers, all the assembly line workers…everyone.  Thank you for wanting more then good enough.  I promise from now on, not to feel guilty about wanting it too.