Just call me Wonder Woman

I hate sharing this because it’s about an icky subject: money. It just feels too private to talk about. But it’s what’s been going on at Chez LaVanne Too, so here goes.

First, background

On Super Bowl Sunday, LaVanne the First died in the desert somewhere near Blythe, California.

Luckily, I had friends who helped me out and after a few weeks of camping and saving up for what I assumed would be a hefty repair bill, I called AAA and got a tow truck to take us to the Larry Green Chevy dealership. (Remember that name: Larry Green Chevrolet, in case you are ever in the market for a vehicle in Blythe.)

I waited in a motel room for nearly a week, checking out almost every day before 11am and taking the puppy and my few belongings to sit in the waiting room at the dealership, only to be told they still hadn’t figured out what was wrong, or they had but they hadn’t fixed it yet, and then going back to check into Motel 6 again for the night.

On the final day, while walking Scout through the lot, I noticed a big, beautiful, shiny white van. I fantasized buying it but after looking at the window sticker and seeing it was only two years old, I knew it was impossible.

Here’s the part I don’t want to share

My credit sucks. Nearly twenty years ago after a divorce, I lost my house to foreclosure, filed bankruptcy, and my first van was repossessed.

I still owe thousands in taxes and student loans but because I was on disability, I caught a break. Of course, if I ever come into real money again, all bets are off.

I never dreamed I could buy a $24,000 van on credit. But the salesman, Avery, thought otherwise. He and Justin, the dealer’s finance manager, went to work and after several hours, got me approved for a loan.

It seemed like a miracle

And just as I was taking that news in, they told me LaVanne the First was toast. She needed a new engine that would cost two thousand dollars more than I had managed to borrow and scrape together for the repairs.

If I didn’t sign on the dotted line for the new van, I would be instantly homeless.

Avery said that the finance company for the old van (yes, I was able to finance it a year and a half ago — at 21% interest thanks to my bad credit) told him the payoff was $830. I was surprised because I still had a year to go on my $253/mo payments but I thought it must have been mostly interest.

Anyway, I didn’t question it because now I didn’t just want this van — I needed it.

I signed. I drove away in the shiny white van. (I felt guilty about abandoning LaVanne, but now I know why they say don’t name your vehicles. You’ll get emotionally attached.)

Fast forward: now I am told that there was a mistake

The real payoff for the old van was $2830, not $830. And Larry Green Chevrolet, which still has her, has no intention of paying the extra two thousand. I’m told it’s my responsibility.

On top of that, the finance company for LaVanne has now assessed an extra $58 a month for a Loss Damage Waiver because she is no longer insured.

After procrastinating for two days (because nothing sends my anxiety shooting up into the red zone like phone calls to strangers about money matters), I spent this morning going back and forth between the dealership, the finance company, even my insurance company, trying to come up with a solution.

There may be a glimmer of hope

The old van is in Larry Green’s possession, not mine. I signed her over to them when I signed those papers. (Sorry, LaVanne!)

Will I wind up making payments on both vans for the next year? I can’t afford that. I am still waiting for an answer from the finance company, but the young woman I spoke to indicated maybe not.

Hope springs eternal, right?

Image by Cernunos

My point is not what you think. This is not a rant about getting cheated by a dishonest dealer — frankly, I don’t know who made the mistake or why.

My point is that I AM FUCKING DEALING WITH THIS — in spite of my absolute terror of paperwork and phone calls and men in suits.

I am as astonished as I am proud of myself. I am a superhero!

It takes courage to face our fears

You can face yours too, I know it.

I’ll be happy to hold your hand while you do.