Last week I went on my first true, out-of-necessity yet completely-by-choice, human-powered grocery-getting errand. On my wife’s trike.
Because I finally – and to the surprise of many of my loved ones –
got rid of the Old Witch.
Equally surprising is that it’s been about a couple of weeks since my
lovingly hated old Benz left the household, and yet I feel totally okay with not owning a motor vehicle.
I never thought that a day would ever come when I – the designated “Car Guy” in the family and pretty much everywhere I had ever worked – would totally lose interest in automobiles.
In fact, I’ve grown to find the very idea of buying me another car slightly depressing, if not outright appalling. I feel
done with automobiles. Done with the very prospect of what it actually takes to own a vehicle. All the upkeep. The oil changes. The never-ending hunt for spare parts. The dealerships. The independent mechanics. The lack of space and time to do my own repairs. The car washes. The parts vendors. Brick-and-mortar vs. online. OEM. Aftermarket. Tires. The breakdowns. The scratches. The leaks.
It’s all been just too much. And has been overwhelming for too long. Owning a car –
this car – took its toll, both on my financial and mental health. I was just done. Done being overwhelmed. Done staying up nights looking for parts online, reading and watching how-tos, and thinking what issues to repair next. It all felt relentlessly, mercilessly futile. It would be nice if all of this was someone else’s problem for a change, even if only for a while.
*
Inevitably, just a few days into having resolved to live car-free, reality started to set in. The household needs stuff. We needed bottled water.
The cats needed fresh litter. Food. Dishwashing soap. The everyday items, the ones that I had always just picked up from any of the stores around the neighborhood with little thought or trouble, now needed planning.
Call a ride-share? No. It would be a little too expensive and probably slightly embarrassing (I’m a proud, card-carrying introvert.)
Borrow one of my in-laws’ vehicles? Terrible idea.
Just let my wife and our housekeeper get whatever we need the next time they go shopping? Now that’s just downright cruel.
*
Amid this whole cacophony of inner demons all clamoring to eat my brain, I suddenly realized that I had completely forgotten about my wife’s trike, even though I had made many, many grocery-getting runs on it before.
But all those other times had been more about enjoying the ride than fulfilling an actual need, given that I had immediate access to my own motor vehicle at all times. They were about the leisurely, satisfying feel of the heavy, springy steel tubes and three supple, bump-busting balloon tires. About the muscles worked out, the heads turned, and the conversations started.
But this time was different: The trike was my only – and very welcome – option.
I made five short trips to the nearby store – the one nearest to the house. The loaded trike creaked under the loads on the way back. Even though each of those five runs was less than a mile long, I felt a special kind of excitement, of exhilaration, a sense of pride and accomplishment that I had never experienced since my poverty-stricken, road bike-commuting college days. The euphoria of being able to do
without, in lieu of the luxury of being able to do
with, was fascinating.
*
In the two weeks or so that I've been without hydrocarbon-powered wheels, a lot of things were put into perspective. Some things fell into place. Other things now seemed out of place. Plenty of things now needed to be reset. Forum threads needed to be unsubscribed from. Browser bookmarks needed to be deleted.
As I started to clean out my stash of new and used spare parts scattered around the house, I realized just how staggering the actual cost of owning the thing had been over the years. It dawned on me - for the millionth, billionth, zillionth time - that there were so many other, far more sensible, useful things that I could’ve done with the money spent. I could’ve studied for a masters. I could’ve saved up for a house. I could’ve traveled more.
And yet I keep coming back to the notion that there are some lessons that could only be learned one way. That it’s all somehow meant to be, and that it all just doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What matters right now is that I’m feeling freshly challenged, with a whole lot of time and energy freed up to focus more on my job, my other little-explored capabilities and talents, my family, and other,
more rewarding projects. And
riding more.