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Six Year Loan in 10 Months
Back in October, I mentioned that we were taking on more debt.
Our plan was:
We now have a car loan for $21564. Our plan is to sell the Caliber for $9500 and the F150 for $6800. That will leave $5354. We have a beneficiary IRA that has to be cashed out relatively soon, so we’re planning to do that early in January to push the tax burden to next year, which will end the loan.
How has that worked out?
We made the final payment on the Tahoe today. Our first payment was December 10, 2012. It took us 10 months to pay off six year loan.
We had initially hoped to have it paid off by March. That didn’t happen. Our plan didn’t work, so how did we do it?
Here’s what happened:
We sold the F150 for $6400, cash.
We still haven’t cashed out the IRA.
We sold the Dodge Caliber for $8500, but….
(This is where the story starts.)
While we were fixing up our rental house, we met quite a few repairmen and installers of various expensive doo-dads. Several of them were interested in buying the Caliber. One of them convinced my wife that we should accept payments for it. That’s a mistake we’ve made before, but we decided to make it again.
We wrote up a loan agreement, listed ourselves as the lien holder on the title and sold the guy a car for $1500/month with no interest. It was supposed to be paid off in just a few month, so it didn’t seem like that big of a deal.
He made two payments, then disappeared for a while.
When he re-materialized, he told us he’d been in the hospital and had lost his job.
Crap.
When the time came to make his next payment, he told us he was going into the hospital for a couple of weeks, and he’d work something out after.
It’s “that kind” of hospital. The dry kind.
Suddenly, it was May and he was telling us his sister would help make payments because drinking yourself into rehab once a month makes it hard to keep a job.
Stories, excuses, BS.
Finally, we got sick of it. I like helping people, but I despise being lied to.
Repo time.
In Minnesota, if you’ve ever taken action(or not taken action) that would make it appear that you were okay with a modified payment plan contrary to the loan agreement–for example, not taking the car back after the first missed payment–you have to send a “Letter to Cure”, which is a 10-day notice of intent to repo. This gives the customer a chance to make things right.
On day 8, he called us, fresh from rehab, promising his sister would help him out. On day 10, she called. Her business had been broken into and she was working that out, but she’d arrange something with us after the weekend.
Crap, that sounds like more excuses.
Remember, this was already August, and the car was supposed to have been paid in early April. We’re such suckers.
By the middle of the week, she called and said she’d make the payment. My wife and I decided that we’d give her three days, then go take the car. On day 2, she said she was overnighting money.
On day three, we got a check and two postal money orders to cover the balance. $4500.
Today is the 10th day from that deposit. The check has cleared, and payment is off to the bank, killing the loan.
But wait, 4500 + 6400 is only $10,900. That leave $10,664 unaccounted for.
From the beginning, we were making double payments. Instead of paying $425 per month, we paid $850 most months, except when things got a little tight over the summer. The tax refund we got that we weren’t expecting also went to the loan. Every extra dollar got sent to the bank, because we weren’t sure how the car loan drama was going to end.
Taking the cars we sold out of the equation, we still paid off the remaining $10,664 in just 10 months. Interest payments came to about $300, which the buyer of the Caliber says he wants to pay us, but I’m not counting on it.
So again, we are debt free and have just freed up $850 in our monthly budget. Half of that will be getting saved for the next car, and half will go towards our other savings goals.
The Virtues of Preparation
The first day of school caught me by surprise yesterday.
I knew it was coming, and we had almost all of the stuff we need in the brat’s backpack, but we weren’t ready for it.
Yesterday morning, we woke up. Brat #3 was uncooperative, to say the least, so I wasn’t playing my ‘A’ game. I woke up Brat #1 and sent him on his way to get changed and eat breakfast. Ten minutes later, I chased him off of the couch to go get changed and eat breakfast. He had forgotten that his school day starts at 7:30, now.
He ate and grabbed his backpack to leave. I sent him to his room to change.
He changed and grabbed his backpack to leave. I sent him to his room for socks.
He put on socks and grabbed his backpack to leave. Then he realized his shoes weren’t by the door.
Shoe hunt!
I got him out of the door, only to see his face again a minute later when he realized he had forgotten something else.
Please remember that Brat #3 was acting up the entire time.
During the course of this, I was trying to make my lunch, which spent the day sitting on my kitchen counter. I was dressing myself; I don’t know how many times I made it to the front door, only to realize I hadn’t put on socks, yet. Or pants, for that matter.
What could have gone better?
Preparation.
On Monday, the day we all had off, with no plans, we should have set our alarms and done a dry run, right up to the point of walking out of the door. Here’s how Monday should have gone:
- All the school and daycare stuff should have been ready to go the night before.
- I get up, have breakfast, then wake Brat #1.
- He gets up and has breakfast, while I dress Brats #2 & 3.
- Brat #1 gets dressed while I help the girls with their shoes and jackets.
- Brat #1 throws on shoes and heads out the door while I strap the girls into the car.
- Everybody’s happy.
That’s the well-oiled machine I would like to see in the morning. Am I dreaming? How do you handle your morning routine efficiently?
Did I Die?
If you’re reading this, you should probably be able to guess that I have not, in fact, died.
So your next question may be “What the heck are you up to, if you’re not posting here?”
That’s a valid question.
It’s been a rough year, and I won’t share details about all of it, but here goes:
I’ve been trying to focus on my marriage. We’ve had some problems that take time to work out. One of the problems is that I’m traveling for work at least monthly. That sounds like staying in a hotel with nothing to do would be great for writing, but it never seems to work out that way. There’s always something going on.
One of the solutions for that–in relation to my marriage–is that we are going on weekly date nights. Every Friday, the boy watches his sisters and the wife and I go out. We usually have a dance lesson, followed by dinner and some activity, which has meant actual dancing in actual bars on actual dance floors with actual bands playing live music. It’s fun, but it sidesteps frugality completely. The dancing lessons run $95 each. Most nights, there’s a $5 cover at the bar where we dance, and dinner is somewhere between $50 and $100, depending on the restaurant and drinks. So, we’re dropping $150-200 per week on dates.
Totally worth it.
The date nights have also spun off into a new venture. Dating & Dining (click the link!) is the site where we document and review our dates. We’re not reviewing our date, because that would be weird. “Honey, you rocked my world when we got home, bu you were kinda crabby tonight. I’m only going to give you 3 stars.”
No.
We are reviewing the restaurants and activities we’re doing, using the traditional “Pants Off” rating system. A really good restaurant will knock our pants off, sometimes literally.
That’s more writing and a lot of time gone.
On top of that, Linda has gotten both her motorcycle license and her carry permit, so there’s riding and shooting(never together!) to fill in the time.
And kids. Kids–much like our dog, but totally unlike our pythons–want attention. And food. And games. And a freaking overpriced American Girl Doll. And time. So we play games and bring out the Daddy/Daughter date.
In short, since we got our finances in order, I’ve been trying to draw back from being an obsessive workaholic and focus on the reason I became one in the first place: my family.
Living On Credit Cards
About 2 months ago, Linda and I decided to go back on the envelope system for all of the parts of our budget that we aren’t able to automate.
The reason we’re doing this is because we’ve been consistently over budget when we do all of our spending on our credit cards.
The reason we switched back to using our credit cards is because it’s a royal pain in the butt to always make sure we’re carrying enough cash for groceries and gas and date night and fundraisers and cover charges, etc.
It’s still a royal pain in the butt, and we still suck at it.
But one of our envelopes is labeled “This went on a credit card” and is used for those times we forgot to grab cash before heading to the store.
In the last two weeks, that’s $500 that we forgot to bring with us.
Cash sucks.
I’m tempted to go back to using the credit card for our primary spending. Yes, we are consistently over budget, but it’s not terrible….for some odd definition of “not terrible”.
We generally seem to have about $1000 left on the card after making our last monthly payment every month. Every month. The overall balance never grows, it’s just hanging out $1000 over what we have budgeted to be paid automatically on the card.
That’s a bad thing, but….
Since I make a payment every couple of weeks, the interest is never assessed on that balance. In the last year, we’ve paid exactly $0 in interest, without any funny balance transfer deals.
By my calculations, that means our credit card has given us $1000 for free.
If we pay that off and get strict about using cash, won’t that mean our free $1000 would have to evaporate?
I like free money.
That also means that the total interest we paid in 2014 is $672.91, all to our mortgage. Even if we have a small balance we carry, we’re not paying interest on that debt, and–worst case–we could raid our savings to make it vanish tomorrow. I’m tempted to make that happen, but our savings goals are more important to me that paying back the free money.
Fall From Grace
When you accumulate a certain level of debt, it feels like you’re wading through an eyeball-deep pool of poo, dancing on your tiptoes just to keep breathing. Ask me how I really feel.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m in debt. We have gone over this before. The story isn’t one of my proudest, so I’ve never talked much about how it happened.
Our debt was entirely our fault. We messed up and dug our own poo-pool. There were no major medical bills, no extended unemployment, just a strong consumer urge and an apparent need for instant gratification. Delayed gratification wasn’t a skill I’d considered learning. The idea of it was a thoroughly foreign concept. Why wait when every store we visited offered no payments/no interest for a year? We didn’t give much thought to what would happen when the year was up.
We got married young. We bought our house young. We started our family young. We did all of that over the course of two years, well before we were financially ready. Twenty years old, we had excellent credit and gave our credit reports a workout. Credit was so easy to get. By the time I was 22, we had a total credit limit more than twice our annual income. We fought so hard to keep up with the Joneses. A new pickup, a remodel on our house. Within a month of paying off the truck, I got a significant raise and rushed out to buy a new car.
Every penny that hit the table was caught in a net of lifestyle expansion. I was bouncing on my tiptoes.
Four months into my new car payment, I was laid off. There’s me, hoping for a snorkel. A week later, we found out our son was going to be a big brother. Our pool had developed a tide.
We killed the cable and cut back on everything else and…managed. Money was tight, but we got by. I got a new job, but had we learned any lessons? Of course not. We got a satellite dish, started shopping the way we always had. Times were good, and could never be bad. We had such short memories.
Fast forward a couple of years. Baby #3 is on the way while baby #2 is still in diapers. Daycare was about to double. Daddy started to panic. I built a rudimentary budget and realized there was no way to make ends meet. There just wasn’t enough cash coming in to cover expenses. That’s when I made my first frugal decision: I quit smoking. That cut the expenses right to the level of our income. It was tight, but doable.
There was still one serious problem. Neither one of us could control our impulse shopping. For a time, I was getting packages delivered almost every day. It was never anything expensive, but it was always something. Little things add up quickly.
Last spring, I realized we couldn’t keep going like that. I started looking into bankruptcy. Somehow, we managed to toss ourselves into the deep end of the pool. We had near-perfect credit and no way to maintain it.
While researching bankruptcy, I found our life preserver. We put together a budget. We cut and…it hurt. It’s taken a year, but every bill we have is finally being tracked. We have an emergency fund and we are working towards our savings goals. It hasn’t been an easy year, but we are making progress. We’ve eliminated 15% of our debt and opened out budget to include some “blow money” and an occasional date night. We are always looking for ways to decrease our bottom line and increase the top line. Most important, we are actually working together to keep all of our expenses under control, with no hurt feelings when we remind ourselves to stay on track.
We are finally standing flat-footed, head and shoulders above the poo.
Update: This post has been included in the Carnival of Personal Finance.
