Cash for My Clunker? No Thanks
By Larry Edsall
According to the just-signed-into-law Car Allowance Rebate System legislation, my 2000 Nissan Frontier Crew Cab 4x4 is a … I can barely bring myself to type the word … a clunker.
There, I wrote it -- but I don’t believe it.
When I think of a clunker, I think of a vehicle that’s all but outlived its usefulness, fit only for duty as a “winter rat” -- a vehicle purchased in the fall for less than (hopefully much less than) $500, with the intent of being driven only back and forth to work on the frigid cold and rust-inducing salted roads of a bitter Michigan (or, I assume, any other far-northern state) winter.
Except for some snow up in Flagstaff, Ariz., or the rim country around the Grand Canyon, my truck hasn’t experienced extended winter weather, though it has gotten dirty while exploring desert trails and Arizona mountain two tracks.
Even as it approaches its 120,000th mile, my Frontier is a long way from being used up.
Back in November 2007, I wrote about my truck turning its 100,000th mile, and I anticipate seeing its odometer spin to at least 200,000. Of course, come to think of it, at its current rate of use it would take another eight years to reach that figure.
Except for some bubbles where the glue beneath the fake chrome on the grille has come lose, a couple of scratches, a paint chip on the driver’s side mirror, some splashes of white paint and an indentation in the rear bumper, the truck looks nearly new, at least on the outside.
Inside, there’s a decade of wear becoming visible on the outside edges of the driver’s seat fabric, and the carpet could use a good cleaning.
But a clunker? No way.
That title becomes even less apt if you disregard the EPA gas mileage ratings in favor of my real-world figures. The EPA says my two-wheel-drive truck, with its 3.3-liter V-6 and four-speed automatic, is rated at 14/18 mpg city/highway, 15 mpg combined.
I’ve kept a notebook in the truck since it was new, recording every refill – miles traveled, gallons pumped, the price of each of those gallons and, when on the road, the town in which I bought gas. I typically average mileage in the 19-20 range, 20-21 if I’ve been doing a lot of freeway or Interstate driving.
The worst figure I’ve seen recently was 16.4 on a drive up the mountains with the air conditioning on. The best I’ve seen lately was 24.1 after cruising two-lane roads across New Mexico.
Do I wish my truck were even more fuel efficient? Of course. In fact, I’d love to have Nissan’s newest V-6 powertrain, which not only provides more – nearly 100 more -- horsepower and enhanced torque, but also has a five-speed automatic that figures to boost highway fuel economy well beyond what I can get with only four gears. At the same time, having another gear would make driving on mountain roads much more enjoyable, whether making the long climb from Phoenix to Flagstaff, or for so-called engine braking when winding down into Oak Creek or the Salt River canyons.
Still, instead of monthly payments, which ended years ago, the only payments I make on my truck are for regular maintenance – primarily oil changes and fresh air filters -- and the occasional price of belts, hoses or brake pads.
The way I look at it, I can pay for a lot of repairs for the equivalent of just two or three months of car payments.
From a fiscal standpoint, getting a cash credit for my clunker isn’t attractive, even for my almost-decade-old truck. According to kbb.com, if I’m completely honest about the truck’s condition, it’s worth about $6,500. That’s $2,000 more value than I’d get from the maximum credit for scrapping my truck.
Sure, there are nicer trucks out there than my Frontier, but nothing that’s compelling enough to make me bite. Two reasons:
One: The latest Frontier (and Equator) aren’t compact pickups, they’re midsize, which means they’re like 90-scale full-size trucks. My ten-year-old Frontier is smaller than these trucks but it's as big a truck as I need. I’m not towing 10,000-pound trailers every week.
Two: I don’t feel guilty about driving a truck that gets 19-22 mpg on average and can haul pretty much everyone and everything I’ve needed to carry in the last decade. Yes, I’d like to get better mileage, saving me money and helping save the environment, but not at the expense of several years of car payments -- or of having to live with the fact that I declared my Frontier a clunker.
I’m going to skip Cash for Clunkers. Government incentives aren’t enough to get me to buy what’s only a marginally improved vehicle from what I own today. My truck is in good enough shape to last until something really worth my money comes along.
Perhaps if Toyota changes its mind and is ready to take the A-BAT compact hybrid from concept to 30-mpg production vehicle before Cash for Clunkers expires … or maybe I’ll just explore a really new frontier when Mahindra launches its 30-mpg compact diesel pickup this fall.
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