We’ve been looking at new cars. I want a car.
Colleen wants an SUV. I’m not an SUV guy. I’m a car guy. I’d like a new
Ford Fusion, but they’re a bit beyond our price range. We looked at a Mazda 3
and I quite like it. Colleen, of course, prefers the Mazda CX-5, an SUV. In
case you don’t know what an SUV is, I’ll tell you. It’s a Sport Utility
Vehicle, not quite a car, and not really a van. It’s kind of halfway between.
SUV’s are really popular with wealthy people and people with young kids. I don’t like
them. They lack style. I think they look like metal boxes with wheels.
“Don’t think about now,” says my very practical wife. “Think
about the future, when you’re not as fit as you are now. Think about when your
lungs are bad and it’s hard for you to get around. Isn’t an SUV easier to get
in and out of?”
She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right. An SUV is much
easier to get in and out of. You sit in a more natural position. There’s more
room, room even for an oxygen bottle. A goddamn oxygen bottle.
“And when Ivy and Percy come with us on a long drive, it’ll
be better for everyone.”
Yeah. A new car was a dream of mine. A new, sleek, cool car
was something I wanted. But I guess that dream will die too. Screw it, then. I guess we’ll be getting an SUV. The Mazda model costs $45,000. We’ll
keep looking.
***
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Big Plans For An Uncertain Future
We had a nice chat the other day, Colleen and I. She
has spoken often lately about her desire to own this house. Or any house, really. It’s just that we live
here already. She thinks we should discuss it with her parents.
“We should talk to my dad about buying this house. We should have discussed it when you first sold your house and moved in here seven years ago. We've paid him about $70,000 in rent since then. Maybe we can apply that to a down payment. And we can offer him the money you got when you sold your house. Maybe we can buy this place from my dad for $400,000. That's what it was worth when you first moved in here with me and Ivy.”
I listened to her ideas. She said she wanted to have a place of her own – “roots” she called it – for herself and Ivy after I’m gone. But Mimico has become a popular place to live. Homes here are very expensive. This old house is worth nearly a million dollars in today’s market. I knew her parents would never agree to Colleen’s plan. The Truth is, we cannot afford to buy a house here in Mimico.
Owning property was important to Colleen. I understood this and tried to be supportive. But in my heart I know that she and Ivy will be welcome, even encouraged to live here for as long as her mum and dad are alive. My in-laws are wealthy people. They own three properties. When they’re dead, Colleen’s share of their estate will be more than a million dollars. At that point, she can buy a house wherever she wants. She was persistent, though, in her desire to “at least talk to them and ask.” I knew her idea was destined to fail, but I offered no opposition. I’m content to stay in this crappy house until I’m dead. It’s close to the hospital and it’s close to my in-laws. It will be fine until I don’t need it anymore. And that might only be four or five years. Maybe less.
I have a nest egg of about $150,000. We had planned to use it for a down payment on a home of our own one day, after I retire and Ivy and Colleen finish school. We had talked about the possibility of moving to Windsor where our money would buy us a lovely home. But then I received this IPF diagnosis. It wouldn’t make sense now to leave Toronto and move 200 miles from one of the world’s leading pulmonary/transplant facilities. So that dream is dead and Colleen has changed her mind now about buying this place. She doesn’t care anymore about owning her own home.
“Let’s travel,” she says. “Let’s do all we can while you’re still able."
I watched as a silver tear slid down her cheek.
"What’s the point of having money in the bank," she said, "if you’re not here to enjoy it with me?”
We’re buying a new car this month. In November, we’re flying to Costa Rica. January will find us at Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. In February, we plan to visit Cabo San Lucas at the tip of Mexico's Baja Peninsula. And I’m retiring in the spring. I still feel alright, mostly. Who knows? Maybe we'll visit Wales and Scotland next summer.
You can't take it with you, can you?
***
“We should talk to my dad about buying this house. We should have discussed it when you first sold your house and moved in here seven years ago. We've paid him about $70,000 in rent since then. Maybe we can apply that to a down payment. And we can offer him the money you got when you sold your house. Maybe we can buy this place from my dad for $400,000. That's what it was worth when you first moved in here with me and Ivy.”
I listened to her ideas. She said she wanted to have a place of her own – “roots” she called it – for herself and Ivy after I’m gone. But Mimico has become a popular place to live. Homes here are very expensive. This old house is worth nearly a million dollars in today’s market. I knew her parents would never agree to Colleen’s plan. The Truth is, we cannot afford to buy a house here in Mimico.
Owning property was important to Colleen. I understood this and tried to be supportive. But in my heart I know that she and Ivy will be welcome, even encouraged to live here for as long as her mum and dad are alive. My in-laws are wealthy people. They own three properties. When they’re dead, Colleen’s share of their estate will be more than a million dollars. At that point, she can buy a house wherever she wants. She was persistent, though, in her desire to “at least talk to them and ask.” I knew her idea was destined to fail, but I offered no opposition. I’m content to stay in this crappy house until I’m dead. It’s close to the hospital and it’s close to my in-laws. It will be fine until I don’t need it anymore. And that might only be four or five years. Maybe less.
I have a nest egg of about $150,000. We had planned to use it for a down payment on a home of our own one day, after I retire and Ivy and Colleen finish school. We had talked about the possibility of moving to Windsor where our money would buy us a lovely home. But then I received this IPF diagnosis. It wouldn’t make sense now to leave Toronto and move 200 miles from one of the world’s leading pulmonary/transplant facilities. So that dream is dead and Colleen has changed her mind now about buying this place. She doesn’t care anymore about owning her own home.
“Let’s travel,” she says. “Let’s do all we can while you’re still able."
I watched as a silver tear slid down her cheek.
"What’s the point of having money in the bank," she said, "if you’re not here to enjoy it with me?”
We’re buying a new car this month. In November, we’re flying to Costa Rica. January will find us at Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. In February, we plan to visit Cabo San Lucas at the tip of Mexico's Baja Peninsula. And I’m retiring in the spring. I still feel alright, mostly. Who knows? Maybe we'll visit Wales and Scotland next summer.
You can't take it with you, can you?
***
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