I have a new online endeavor that I have named "The Husband Manual."
Check it out at http://www.mywonderfulhusband.com
My premise is that if you (the wife) can come to understand the fundamental operating principles of the husband (i.e. the caveman), then you too can have a happy, peaceful marriage.
Yes, it would be nice if we men could truly understand the inner workings of a woman's mind.
But we can't !!
No matter how much you'd like to think we can, we simply are not capable. So the next best thing is for you, loving wives, to understand us, your brutish, simplistic husbands.
We may be simple, but we won't tolerate being treated like simpletons.
Check it out. http://www.mywonderfulhusband.com
Ok so I admit it, it's nice not driving my 'clunker' anymore.
But I really question the wisdom of destroying all these cars that are turned in, many of them probably perfectly fine. Is this a net gain, taking these off the road and replacing them with higher-mpg vehicles?
Had I retained my clunker, put a bit of money into some repairs and driven it for another year, wouldn't this be less impact to the environment than what it took to create that new car I just bought?
Who knows, greater minds than mine would have to answer that question.
It just goes against my midwest, sensible upbringing to be destroying functioning cars.
But the new car does drive nice, so screw it !
I've decided to toss in the towel with my crappy old car and take the government handout of $4500.
My poor old Jeep just turned over 175,000 miles. I really could push it for probably another 50k, but the allure of getting $4500 for it now, when it is probably worth maybe $800, is too much to resist.
At some point, probably soon, the radiator on my jeep will give out, stranding me.
The rear end is making a nasty bearing-going-out sound. I thought it was a wheel bearing, replaced them both, no dice.
I could get the rear end fixed, and just wait for the radiator to go, and still be money ahead, for now.
Term.
No question.
Term Insurance. Not Whole Life !
An asset is something that is expected to be worth more in the future than it is worth today. At least by my definition. Some would call things such as your car an asset; a depreciating asset, to be specific, because it will be worth less in the future, rather than more. I don’t consider declining value items as assets, as they aren’t a building block of your financial portfolio. Twenty years from now that Tahoe in your driveway won't be paying for your retirement. So don't call it an asset.
Ever tried eliminating a bad habit through sheer willpower? Yeah, me too, and it usually fails, doesn't it. "Nature abhors a vacuum", meaning unfilled spaces are unnatural, applied to everyday life - remove that daily doughnut from your morning, and the forces of nature conspire against you to bring it back. For a few days you live without it, until powerfull forces overcome you and the doughnut is back, nature once again balanced. The vacuum was only temporary, much to the detriment of your waistline.
To succesfully banish a habit, we need to avoid creating that vacuum. The substitute system comes to our rescue.
Instead of eliminate, think substitute. Replace that morning doughnut with a piece of fruit. Substitute a walk around the block for the after-dinner smoke.
Somehow nature is appeased when we substitute instead of eliminate.
I owned a laundromat for 4 years. I was the coin collector, the machine fixer, the accountant. I was the guy. This was a small 'mat, grossing under 100k per year and netting, at least early on, around 1500 bucks per month. Easy money, right? Just empty the bills from the change machine, transfer the quarters from the washers and dryers back into the change machine, take cash to the bank. What could be easier, this must be a great business!
Far from it. Let's go over some qualities of a good business and compare with my little laundromat exercise.
A good business has:
A laundromat definitely does not have large growth potential. Sure, you can increase your business a bit, but there are only so many customers within easy driving distance. Your machines can only support so many loads per day.
Eight years ago, shortly after the birth of my second daughter, I became a Navy seal. You know the Navy seals, the elite fighting forces who can endure anything. Maybe on T.V. you've seen the training they are put through, the training that develops their mental toughness to be unaffected by any obstacle. During 'hell week', the trainees are kept cold, wet, and hungry for days on end. They spend hours sitting in the ocean surf, in the dark, freezing in the 50-degree water. Instructors badger them relentlessly, telling them to quit, that they'll never make it. Ring the bell and you are done, on your way home to a hot shower. It's a tough gig.
How did I survive this? I didn't.
I'm no seal - on the contrary, I'm a soft, middle-aged guy with a desk job. I'd be crying like a baby before the training barely got off the ground. So what the hell am I talking about becoming a Navy seal?