Lessons in Waiting

And while the thrills are fading
The joy is in the waiting
Somewhere in the grand design
It's good to be unsatisfied
It keeps the faith and hope a little more alive

                                - Downhere, My Last Amen

I’ve loved the look of the current-generation Camaro ever since it debuted as a show car in 2006.  One glance at its sculpted flanks and menacing visage and I thought, Dang, I gotta get me one of those.

In a heartbeat, I made the new Camaro my desktop background on my work computer, taped a poster of it to the back of my office door, and placed a Hot Wheels model of it on the shelf behind me.  I even joined an online Camaro forum.  These are the kinds of things I do when smitten.

Let’s get this part out of the way: I still do not own a new Camaro.  But the waiting is helping me understand that a dream deferred isn’t necessarily a dream denied, and I’ll tell you why.

I really, really do want a new Camaro.  Badly.  Not that I don’t still love my 2005 GTO.  I do.  It runs as strong as ever, even with 73,000 miles on it.  But that odometer—ugh.  I looked at it one day and suddenly thought, You know, this car is never going to be worth more as a trade-in than it is right now.  Thus motivated, I went inside, pulled up the Chevrolet Web site, and pieced together a car with the options I wanted: Synergy green, black stripes, manual tranny.  Then I did a search for the trade-in value of my car.  I looked at the numbers and my brain started clicking.

It was that close to being do-able.  Ugh.  I needed more information, so I shot off an e-mail to a local Chevrolet sales lady I know.  I heard back from her almost immediately.  What do you know?  They had that very car in stock.  A meant-to-be feeling welled within me.  Without knowing precisely when it happened, I transitioned from “what if?” to “I might do this!”

I arranged to stop at the dealer after work to see the car, then called my wife and made my case.  She sighed a lot, but ultimately said, “Go ahead; do what you want to do.  You’ve always wanted one.”  I could tell she wasn’t completely on board, but I thought I could get her to come around.

At the dealer, I found the Camaro displayed indoors, under bright lights, on a stand that tilted the car forward like a watch in a jeweler’s case.  Wow.  My sales lady got the keys and we sat in it.  More wow.  From someplace, a man appeared and asked for my GTO’s keys.  He was going to appraise it.  He came back and told me the trade-in value would be exactly what I had expected.  Then there were end-of-the-month discounts that further narrowed the gap between my trade and the Camaro’s price.  This was moving so fast!

I called my wife.  I called my mother.  Dang it!  No one would make up my mind for me: it was up to me to make the right decision.  I stood and stared at the car, trying to picture myself driving it home.

And there it was, in my mind’s eye, parked in my garage:  Parked in the garage of a house that needed paint, flooring, cabinets and counter tops; parked at a home whose backyard landscaping still wasn’t finished; parked under the same roof as outdated bathrooms badly in need of remodeling; parked where two boys have scads of activities that need to be paid for.

In the end, it was I who came around, not my wife.  I handed the keys back to the saleslady.  I thanked her for everything, but said the timing just wasn’t right.  She seemed a little stunned.  I don’t think she was accustomed to seeing people come so close and then . . . just say “no.”

Driving home, I was numb, bummed . . . but at peace.  The farther I got from the dealership, the more I knew I’d done the right thing.   As I turned into my neighborhood, I found Nicholas out on the sidewalk, waiting.  He’d heard his mother on the phone with me and learned I might be driving a new car home.  “Sorry, buddy,” I said after I parked.  “I didn’t get it.”

“That’s okay, Dad,” he said.

Just a few days after turning down the Camaro deal, I learned that Chevrolet will be coming out with a new, more powerful Camaro model for 2012—the ZL1.  Interesting.  Supercharged 550-horsepower engine and some other enhancements.  I have now made that car my computer desktop background.  Maybe that’s what I’ll save my pennies for.

Last weekend, while washing the GTO, Nick came outside and stood next to me, watching.  “Dad,” he pronounced, “I want you to get a new car, but I also really like this car.  I like how it looks.  It’s pretty.”

Nick’s right: I’m in a great situation exactly as I am.  That Camaro show car debuted five years ago, and I haven’t died of desire yet.  What’s another year or two?  The dream’s not denied.  Just deferred a little bit, and that’s okay.  It’ll be all the sweeter when it comes true.