I received my array of Vegan themed bumper stickers a couple months ago and they had sat on the counter for a week before I got around to cleaning my car windows to apply them. I would like to claim that I was trying to avoid the inevitable rain that would result from me cleaning my car, but the truth is that I am just lazy sometimes. With my windows now spotless (But for some reason not streak-less), I set about trying to find the right spot to place the first one which read "Go Vegan" with the Farm Sanctuary website below the message. Having found the perfect location, I peeled it from its backing. Through the glass, I saw something that made my heart stop for a second (Not my reflection). Holy crap, are my seats leather? I couldn't believe that in my quest to purge all the animal products from my life that I could have missed something as big as this. I had rid myself of my leather jackets, my leather shoes and boots, my wallet, my belts, my supplements and medications in gel caps, any cosmetic products that were not listed with "Compassionate Consumer", and had even consulted with our vet about putting Heidi on a Vegetarian diet. Granted, I didn't drive my car much except for road trips, but now that the Hyundai was dead and the Camaro was my primary vehicle, I had to confront something that may have been overlooked.
There was always the chance that they were not actually leather, so I looked all over for tags on the seats and for details in the owner's guide. I have had the car for nine and a half years and I don't recall selecting what type of seats I wanted as much as selecting which type I didn't want which was cloth because I had thought it looked cheesy (I failed to recognize at the time that my choice of car may have fallen into the cheesy category in and of itself). Failing to find any indications in the car, I turned to the internet, as the world often does for these types of mysteries. I held my breath as I Googled, "2001 Camaro interior options". As it turned out, there were only two options: Cloth and leather. The sudden realization that I had been driving a car with leather seats, to the Farm Sanctuary no less, was a heavy blow. Not only was I now a terrible hypocrite, unworthy of my bumper sticker, I was ashamed by my oversight and felt like a sham. How could I have driven this car to go visit Whitaker? Could he smell the seats on my clothes or skin? The implications were debilitating for me.
My previously beloved car, my companion for many a road trip, my replacement for my previously beloved Camaro, was now my enemy. And since it was inanimate, that made me my own enemy. My first thought was that I had to get rid of it. From an emotional perspective, I couldn't keep driving it without feeling like both a hypocrite and a royal dirt-bag. From a practical stand-point, it couldn't have come at a worse time since our third car, the Hyundai Elantra had just decided to prove that it was not the "Little Engine that Could" and was sitting dead in the drive-way awaiting pick-up (Yes, whatever pittance it gets at auction will be going to Farm Sanctuary). I explored my options:
1. I could put car seat covers on: This was ruled out quickly since it would just be hiding my shame rather than really fixing it.
2. I could try to replace the seats, front and back, and the steering wheel and trim with pleather: After looking on-line I was not able to find anyone who provided this service so this was ruled out as well.
3. I could buy a replacement car without leather. This would certainly eliminate the problem I had with my car.
4. I could do nothing and just keep driving my car. I figured that this may be humbling for me and make me realize that no one can be perfect. Besides, I had purchased the car so long ago that I couldn't really blame myself, right?
I turned to some of the books I had about animal rights and read what I thought was some re-affirmation for option number four from Peter Singer. In "Animal Liberation", he states, "So it is not a sin to continue to wear leather shoes you bought before you began to think about Animal Liberation. When your leather shoes wear out, buy nonleather ones; but you will not reduce the profitability of killing animals by throwing out your present ones." This, coming from an authority on the matter, seemed to substantiate my thinking. There was no way for me to go back and un-buy the car or put the leather back on its rightful owner. I couldn't right my naive wrong. Additionally, I thought it may be good for me to realize that I was not perfect and use this knowledge to avoid judging others. Besides, if I bought another car, even a used one, I would not be able to donate money that might have otherwise gone to Farm Sanctuary.
I had made my decision...but had not made up my mind. For the next couple months, I felt like I was hiding a huge secret. I was afraid that someone would see my car and that it would undermine the integrity of my cause. In "Eternal Treblinka" they refer to the concept of "X-Ray vision" that comes along with the Vegan lifestyle and I had a bad case of it. I couldn't look at my car as I used to. All I could see was the square meters of dead skin draping my seats and it made me physically ill to drive it. I still fought against the idea of a new car, trying to rationalize that the money was too important to spend on this personal hang-up.
On my last trip to Farm Sanctuary, for the Volunteer Work Party, I couldn't drive the Camaro. Lori was in Tuscon visiting her parents and I took her Mini Cooper with its pleather seats. This was when I resolved that I had to change cars. No matter how many opinions I may find to justify doing nothing, this is not an option for me. I am an all-or-nothing, no hypocrisy, intact integrity guy and I cannot let that be threatened; especially not when I am trying to be an ambassador for Farm Sanctuary.
So, today I decided to start looking around for my next car. I am not going to bother looking at new cars because I don't want to have a car payment. I will be limiting myself to a car that I can buy outright for my trade-in and what cash I can afford. Fortunately, there are a lot of options available with the current economy. Since I was in a lazy mood (See earlier in the chapter for more evidence of this), I went to the dealership nearest my office during lunch time.
Something about shopping for cars always feels dirty. It is a primal confrontation and the buyer is cast as the victim trying to ward off the manipulative tactics of the salesman. In fairness, the salesman is a human being too, doing a job that pays the bills for his or her family (Who am I kidding? I have never seen a female car sales person). The dance began on the Toyota used car lot as I was looking at what they had to offer. My lack of forethought was pretty apparent from the dealer's first question, "So, what are you looking for?" I answered quite honestly and explained that I had a car that worked just fine, but I was looking to replace it because of the leather seats. Oh, and I have a dog who would like to be able to ride too. Somehow that led to SUVs and we took a look at a couple. The first one was a Toyota Highlander.
It was a nice enough late-model vehicle with a nice burgundy paint job, but it was a little on the large side. I couldn't imagine Lori getting out of her Mini and into this very easily and despite what she may say, I would like her to be able to drive my car as well. Plus, it had a little "hiccup" sound when the accelerator was pressed hard. Despite the fact that I have an arsenal of questions that I hope make me seem like less of a rube, the fact is that I can get out of my league pretty quickly when it comes to cars. I was tempted to ask about this noise but I figured I would either get a "dealer answer" or a technical answer that would reveal that I didn't know what he was talking about. Citing the size as a concern and the mileage (It had about 78,000 miles on it), we took a look at another car.
The next one was a 2006 RAV-4 with about 16,000 miles on it. It was a nice looking small SUV which I figured would make it more suitable for Lori. It was in good shape and had a nice rear area which would give Heidi plenty of space. I acted pretty cavalier about it and didn't let on that I was that interested, but I agreed to let them figure out whether it would fall into my price range or not.
By now, I knew a little bit about the salesman, Said. He was a recent refugee from Iraq with his family and was adapting to life in the US where his previous history meant nothing anymore. He briefly lamented having recently received his driver's license and how none of his thirty-five years of driving experience seemed to make any difference. Based on our hour together, I don't hold it against Said, but I find the choreographed routine that followed to be a bit too cliche. We sat at his desk, with me facing away from the "Boss's desk" and he asked what I was looking to pay. I re-emphasized that I didn't really need to buy a car today, but if they were to give me a good deal for my trade-in, I may be enticed. The sticker price on the car was about $18,000 and I knew from Blue Book that my car was probably worth about $6,000 on account of its low miles. As he got up to go "fight for me", I declined the fourth offer for a cup of coffee, explaining again that I don't drink the stuff, also for the fourth time. The dealership floor was clearly set up to put me at a disadvantage. I was positioned looking away from the discussion that was transpiring, but I was within easy listening range. Despite this obvious fact, the discussion seemed intended to continue to emphasize my inferiority and psychological dependence on the dealer. I listened as he argued my case and his boss chastised him, reminding him that he works for the boss and not for me. I stifled a chuckle and waited patiently.
After several minutes that also seemed intentionally drawn out to make me feel uncomfortable, Said came back and it was clear that he had not won the battle on my behalf. My champion had been vanquished. He began to fumble about with a list of other vehicles that may be more in my price range. I joined the ruse and explained that I really didn't have time today to check out other cars today, but that maybe I would come back at a later date. I know that this is not what he would want to hear and it seemed to have some effect. What happened next seemed like a version of "good cop, better cop" as he excused himself for some unknown reason and introduced another dealer named Mike.
Mike was an older gentleman and I sensed that this maneuver was supposed to elicit more a more sympathetic response from me. I may be able to resist Said but how could I possibly say "No" to poor Mike. I was ready for this. Like I said, I hate how "dirty" the car buying process is. Said, Mike, and the "boss" are probably all fine, upstanding folks, but the car buying situation brings out the cynic in all of us. After some back and forth, Mike came back with a deal that was $4,700 more than I was planning to spend with tax, title, and license included. I balked at that and explained that I had to get back to the office soon. He asked me why I didn't just finance it to make it easier to afford. At that point, I explained my position. It's not that I don't have the cash to cover what they were asking for. The situation was that if I spent more than I intended, it would mean that I wouldn't have that money for other purposes. He asked me whether I could adjust up by any and I didn't take the bait. I responded that I needed him to come back with an adjusted number and if it agreed with the adjustment that I had in mind, we would have a deal.
This tale is boring me as I write it, so in case I ever have any other readers, I should probably just cut to the chase. At the end of the haggling, we reached a deal that included all charges and an extended warranty and it felt like a victory for the little guy. I am always curious as to how much lower they might have gone, but to be honest I was somewhat spent. I needed to believe in the sanctity of the buyer-seller relationship so I didn't ask. I am somewhat sure they wouldn't share that with me anyway.
So, at the end of the day, I am the owner of a used Toyota RAV-4 with 16,000 miles, no leather, and an extended warranty that covers everything in the car. The fact that it is almost the identical color as my Camaro wasn't noted until later in the day, but I am happy. After pulling into the driveway, there is only one thing that I can think to do: I need to find a spot for that bumper sticker!
