Member-only story
Money, Pain, and New Cars
The Diminishing Analgesic Effects of Wealth
When I was 12 years old, my dad took me to the dentist to get my first cavity filled. “By the way,” he said as we walked into the office, “don’t get the novocaine — it’s $20.”
My father was a very good man — the most decent, humble person I’ve ever known. But he was so frugal and required so little material fulfillment in his own life that maybe he had trouble understanding other people’s desire for teeny-tiny luxuries like anesthesia.
Ten minutes later, as Dr. Stalling’s drill tore into my virgin molar and the acrid stench of pulverized tooth filled the air, I writhed in agony and dug my fingernails into the arm of the dentist’s chair. Then and there, I made myself a promise: “Someday, I’m going to make some goddamn money.” Because, in certain cases, money literally relieves pain.
I was thinking about this the other day while driving my new car. After ten years, I traded in my Tesla for a new Mercedes SUV. It’s a beautiful piece of German engineering (by way of Alabama), and I still get excited when I see it. However, as tasty as my new ride is, it’s nowhere close to the most thrilling automobile purchase I have ever made. That honor belongs to the 1994 Saturn SL2.
