Car Shopping and Pilates

Anyone who's reading this probably knows Alec well enough to understand that, when he is faced with a major (and sometimes even minor) decision, like buying a car or a house, planning a trip, or figuring out which restaurant to eat at on his one night in Los Angeles, he can become a tad obsessed.  Don't get me wrong--I realize that I generally benefit enormously from these obsessions.  For example, the late nights he spent trawling the internet looking at real estate in Brooklyn the year we lived in DC resulted in our lovely Park Slope home.  If it was not for said obsession, I doubt if we would have found such a fabulous, deep bathtub that fit into an awkwardly shaped space in aforementioned house.  And I clearly use that tub much more than Alec does.

So it has gone with our Barcelona auto purchase.  Alec rushes out on Monday mornings to buy a copy of Cambalache, the local classifieds paper.  He spends hours every night on the internet scouring used car listings, ratings sites, blogs about cars.  And then, before I go to sleep, he downloads his brain to me---telling me about the relative merits of the Mercedes Class A versus the Subaru Justy, the Volkswagen Polo as it compares to the Mazda 3.  I think he needs to say it more than he needs to say it to me--it's his way of processing everything.  I try to ask a few questions and be supportive.

It's important to know, before I get too far into this story, that I have given Alec carte blanche to make this decision.  Truth be told, cars don't do much for me.  As long as it gets me where I need to go without breaking down, I'm good.  And actually, Alec is not really much of a car-as-image-maker guy either.  However, given that our New York City car is a Chevy Suburban, I think he saw this as a potential opportunity to have a little fun.  Which explains his fantasy with the Alfa Romeo 147.  It isn't a zippy little red convertible, 2 seater, midlife crisis kind of a car.  But let's face it, an Alfa Romeo possesses a certain romance that a Subaru Justy simply lacks.  "Come on, Lis', when else in my life am I going to own an Alfa Romeo?" he asks.  "Go for it, sweetie," I say.  My priorities: safety, reliability, cost.   The Alfa does pretty well on all of these counts.

He's not sure yet, so this morning---after another night of research, and transferring $$ to our bank here---he decides to head back to Auto Mundi (or is it Mundi Auto?) for another tour---he's got 11 cars to look at.  He calls our friendly local banker, Josep, at La Caixa (our bank) to find out how to get the $$ to the dealer.  Josep explains the process to Alec and tells him that--surprise--LaCaixa is not only a bank, they also lease and sell cars!  La Caixa is becoming nearly a one-stop shop for us--they sold us our health insurance and also fund our kids' favorite museum, CosmoCaixa, a terrific science museum.  So we weren't exactly shocked to learn that they also sell cars.  Alec opened the laptop back up, trolled the site, and found a perky little 2006 Citroen C4 that he thought deserved a look.   He called Josep again, who made a reservation at the car selling place for Alec to go out and take a look.  All of the cars have been previously leased by the bank; after they are a few years old, the bank sells them to dealers or to individuals like us.

Miraculously, both kids decided to go with him, leaving me with a few free hours.  Milo insistedon dressing in his new FC Barcelona soccer jersey and matching shorts (see Photo of the Day, below).  This is the team's away uniform and the dayglo pink makes Milo look like a human highlighter.  As Alec says, "You've got to be tough to take the field in that color."

When they got to the car lot, the woman at the office informed Alec that the car had been sold.  Apparently, when Josep called, no one entered the reservation, which is supposed to hold the car until the reserver comes to see it.  Now, you also probably know Alec well enough to know that he does not give up easily.  Did he turn around and go home? No.  Did he succumb to the salespeoples' attempts to show him other cars that might be to his liking?  Absolutely not.  After persisting for awhile with the first woman, another salesman intervened, told them that a dealer had bought the car, and that he was willing to tell the dealer that the sale had been made in error.  If Alec wanted the car, he could have it.  So they traipsed out to the hot dusty lot and found the car on the edge of it.  C.C. and Milo came home with pockets full of snail shells they collected behind the last row of cars.

 Before I finish this story, which has already gone on too long, there are two things you need to know about buying a used car in Spain.  Number 1, they do not let you take the car for a test drive.  Not at Auto Mundi, not at the La Caixa lot.  You can sit in it, and you can turn the key in the ignition to hear the motor, but you can't go anywhere, not even with a salesperson riding along.  Isn't that strange?  And number 2, if you are buying a previously leased car from a bank, it looks like shit when they show it to you.  It's dirty, the glovebox has the previous owner's chewing gum in it, and there may be wrappers on the floor.  I guess they figure they don't need to waste a whole lot of Armor All if they are going to end up selling it to another dealer.

So the car looked pretty crappy, but Alec decided to buy it, giving up the Alfa Romeo fantasy, at least for now.  We won't have it in our possession for another two weeks, which is how long it will take for them to make it shine like new again.  It comes with a one year guarantee, which is a big relief.

And what did I do with my afternoon of freedom?  As soon as they left the house, I checked the gym's class schedule and realized that if I hoofed it, I could get there in time for a Pilates class.  I just didn't feel like getting on one of those cardio machines again.  So I got there just in time, spread my mat on the floor, and tried to get a good sight line to the teacher.  Only then did I realize that Pilates may not have been the best choice for a first class given that: a) I have never taken a Pilates class in my life; and b) it was in Spanish.  My Spanish is okay, but the acoustics in there were not great, and I spent a lot of time craning my neck to see the teacher, or peeking at my neighbor who clearly both spoke Spanish and had done this before.  I can tell you one thing---Pilates has a lot to do with the "umbligo" or belly button.  Every other sentence was "umbligo this" or "umbligo that."  I'm pretty sure she wanted us to push the BB into our backs, so I did.  I felt a little like a deaf person, but I got a pretty good workout all the same.

On my way home, I picked up eggplant, zucchini, peppers and basil to make ratatouille.  We had most of a sack of tomatoes left from Bjorge's garden, and I couldn't stand the thought of them going to waste.