Teen Car Shopping: The Hilarious Reality of My Teen’s First Car Expectations
If you’ve ever had to explain the concept of money to a teenager—especially during teen car shopping season—then you already know I deserve snacks, a nap, and possibly hazard pay for this teen car shopping experience I just endured.
My 16-year-old daughter has officially decided she needs a car. Not wants. Needs. Naturally, this means we’re going “car shopping,” which in teenager language translates to scrolling through Cars.com like we’re browsing for puppies.
We sit down, and I hit her with the adult question:
“What’s your budget?”
She shrugs and says, “I don’t know… like $15,000.”
Fantastic. Marvelous. I love ambition.
So I ask, “Do you have $15,000?”
She blinks at me like I’ve just spoken another language.
“No.”
Then why is your budget $15,000, baby? Why?
But okay. We proceed. She starts scrolling and goes, “Ooh, I like that one.”
It’s a used BMW.
A BMW. For a first car. For someone who was recently asking me for Chick-fil-A money.
This child has lost her entire mind.
So I say, “Alright, let’s calculate your car payment.”
I type it in and say, “It’s about $300 a month.”
Her jaw fully unhinges.
“WHAT? WHY?”
Deep inhale. “Because that’s how car loans work. You borrow money. Then you return the money. With interest. Welcome to adulting.”
Then I lightly mention, “You’ll also need car insurance.”
I hope you’re sitting down because once again she screeches,
“WHAT? WHY?”
Because apparently she thinks her looks alone will protect her from highway patrol.
I explain, “You cannot drive uninsured, sweetheart. It’s illegal. If you get in a wreck—”
She cuts me off with, “Well, I just won’t.”
…That’s not how the world works, darling.
I continue: “For a 16-year-old female, your insurance is about $350 a month.”
Her: “WHAT? WHY?”
Me: “Because insurance companies don’t trust teens. And honestly? They shouldn’t.”
So now we’re at $300 for the car. $350 for the insurance.
And gas—$50 a week, which adds another $200 a month.
I break it down for her:
“You’ll need about $1,000 a month just to operate this car.”
Then I ask, “How much do you make again?”
She says, $14 an hour.
A gentle whisper of income. A breeze of money. A suggestion of a paycheck.
So I ask, “Do you… have $1,000 a month?”
She quietly says, “No…”
Exactly.
“So yes,” I tell her, “we can continue this teen car shopping adventure. But it’s going to be window shopping. Because right now? You can’t afford the window.”
She looks at me, defeated, and says,
“So… I have to save up money?”
And all I can do is stare at her and say,
“Oh. My. Gosh.”
Somebody get me a drink.
