Advice columns where random strangers write in and an expert columnist responds: legit or a crock of you know what? I’m not going to call out any particular advice column. You will find no linkage here.
But what percentage do you reckon these are true vs fictional, made-up, an all-around ‘I think this would be an interesting question and answer’ scenario? I’m figuring high on the fiction and low on the truth totem pole. At the least, 50/50. It’s plausible half are true. The other half? I’m calling BS.
Which got me thinking. Never a good idea. If I had a Dear _______ advice column, what would I call it? And how would I answer? That’s what this post is today. It’s my new advice column featuring a make believe question no one sent me but that I wrote and responded to on my own. I call it Dear Jeffro.
Advice you don’t need when you need it
Dear Jeffro,
I really want to buy a Tesla Cybertruck but there are a few problems. To simplify my question on whether I should proceed with this purchase, I’ve laid out my dilemma for you in an itemized list. I love making lists. Grocery lists. Honey-do lists. Christmas lists. Okay, here I go:
- I live in the Middle of Nowhere USA where electric charging stations don’t exist. The closest charging station is 130 miles away at a Wawa. I’m not sure I’d be able to make it there and back home, drive around where I live for a few days (including work commutes), and make it back to the Wawa charging station to re-charge when my battery needs more juice. Wawa does make amazing flatbread sandwiches though, so it’s tempting.
- I make less than $40,000 annually and can’t afford the cheapest model which starts at $82,000, much less the Cyberbeast model which costs $99,990 or $100,000 if you round up. This is before tax. I’ve considered eating ramen noodles for all meals of the day for the next five to ten years, but even with that, the math is tight. For reference, I currently drive a 1991 Toyota Corolla with 516,000 miles on it and manual car windows. I should be able to pay it off in three years. The worn fabric on the driver’s seat also smells like farts.
- Lastly, I have no practical need for a pick-up truck to begin with. Granted, it doesn’t appear anyone who buys a Tesla Cybertruck uses it for actual truck things. It’s basically an overpriced status symbol that looks like a shiny silver dumpster on wheels. I once saw a guy driving one on the interstate. When I manually rolled down my car window to wave and then give him a thumbs up because I thought his truck was cool, he flipped me the bird and yelled at me to self-drive my Toyota Corolla off a bridge.
Help! Should I buy a Cybertruck or not?
— Prospective Cybertruck owner without an ability to charge it, money to buy one, or practical need to purchase a Cybertruck in the first place
Dear Prospective Cybertruck owner without an ability to charge it, money to buy one, or practical need to purchase a Cybertruck in the first place,
It appears to me you already know the answer to your question on whether you should buy a Cybertruck or not. To help clarify matters, because I can see you are struggling with indecision, you are not even a real person. This isn’t a real problem.
How do I know this?
Because you are a figment of my imagination. Stick with the 1991 Toyota Corolla with 516,000 miles on it. Take it to a trusted mechanic every six months for tune-ups and an oil change. Replace rusted parts as they fall off. Those things run forever.
Just be careful not to park your 1991 Toyota Corolla on the side of a wet hill on a rainy day. It’ll slide down into a telephone pole next to a basketball court which is what happened to me when I was 16 years old. Your dad will then try to beat out all the dents on the driver’s side door and only make the dents worse and more noticeable than before. The dents will live on for eternity.
Then your dad will ask you how you managed to wreck a car while it was parked. Twenty seven years later and fifteen years after his death, you still won’t know the answer to his question. You will then contemplate writing in to an advice columnist to see if they can comprehend this mystery. That way, when you see your dad again at the pearly gates at the moment of your death, you can answer and say, “I know how it happened Dad.”
And you will calmly explain to him how the slippery surface, reduced tread on the tires, and weight distribution of the vehicle were all factors leading to you wrecking the car while it was parked.
The problem with this is you already know how your dad is going to respond which is, “It still don’t make any damn sense. How do you wreck a car while it’s parked? How is that possible?”
1991 Toyota Corolla it is and a big no to the Cybertruck.
P.S. Does your current Toyota Corolla already contain dents in the driver’s side door by chance?
Jeffro
If you enjoyed this, you may get a kick out of the time my dad took me golfing in a story called: I’ll Let You Drive the Golf Cart.