I did not go to the car dealer planning to buy a car.
I went there for an oil change.
That distinction became important later.
While I was waiting, I wandered around the dealership and saw a Mustang Mach-E. It had just come on the market, and naturally I wanted to look at it.
A salesperson approached me. We talked. Then he offered to take me for a test drive.
That was probably the moment when an ordinary oil change stopped being an ordinary oil change.
I drove the Mach-E, liked it, and suddenly I wanted the car.
Not next year. Not after a careful household discussion. I wanted it while I was still sitting in it.
There is nothing especially mysterious about that reaction. New cars are designed to be desirable. A test drive is designed to make the car feel real. The salesperson's job is not to remind you about your parking situation, your insurance bill, or the conversation waiting for you at home.
Those were my jobs.
And for a while, I wasn't doing them.
Excitement Has a Very Narrow Field of View
When I wanted the Mach-E, my attention was on the enjoyable parts.
It was new. It was different. It was electric. It was fun to drive.
My mind was already imagining ownership before I had seriously considered everything ownership would require.
I wasn't thinking clearly about the limited parking space in my building.
I wasn't thinking about adding another insurance policy.
I wasn't giving much attention to the discussions this decision would create with my wife.
I was looking at the exciting part of the decision while the boring consequences stood quietly off to the side.
That is something I have learned to watch for.
Excitement does not necessarily mean a decision is wrong. But excitement can make a decision look incomplete.
It shines a spotlight on what we gain and leaves what we must maintain sitting in the dark.
The Purchase Is Often the Beginning, Not the End
One lesson I have taken from years of reading about habits, decision-making, money, and human behavior is that we are often much better at imagining the moment of getting something than the months or years of living with it.
We picture the new car in the driveway.
We do not picture the insurance renewal.
We picture accepting the new job.
We do not picture the commute on a rainy Tuesday six months later.
We picture buying the larger house.
We do not picture cleaning it, repairing it, heating it, and paying for it.
We picture saying yes to an opportunity.
We do not always picture all the small obligations that arrive attached to that yes.
The first moment is vivid. The maintenance is boring.
Unfortunately, life contains far more maintenance than first moments.
I Needed to Ask a Less Exciting Question
The obvious question in the dealership was:
Do I want this car?
The answer was easy. Yes.
But that was not the most useful question.
A better question would have been:
Do I want everything that comes with this car?
That question is slower.
It forces parking into the conversation. Insurance gets a vote. Household finances get a vote. My wife's opinion gets a vote. The practical reality of owning another vehicle gets a vote.
The car itself was only one part of the purchase.
This sounds obvious when I write it now.
Many useful lessons do.
The difficulty is remembering them when something shiny is sitting in front of you.
The Salesperson's Urgency Does Not Have to Become Yours
There is another part of impulse decisions that deserves attention: urgency.
When we are excited, any suggestion that we should act now becomes especially powerful.
Maybe somebody else will buy it.
Maybe the offer will disappear.
Maybe this is a rare opportunity.
Sometimes those things are genuinely true.
But urgency is also one of the easiest ways to prevent ourselves from doing the boring thinking that protects us.
If a decision is large enough to affect my finances, my household, or my daily life for months or years, then a short pause is not cowardice. It is part of the decision.
I do not need to adopt somebody else's sales timetable as my thinking timetable.