Many free spirits live without their own set of wheels. They float around to the places they need and want to go without a care, without a car.
But I can’t. I did during my abroad travels, but that was part of the nature of the journey. At home, though, a car makes me feel free. I love to drive and drive and drive and drive. But of course long journeys like that are only occasional. On the daily I need my car to get to and from work in a decent amount of time and to string together multiple errands and adventures on the weekends. The public bus doesn’t go everywhere.
Even though my new four wheels that I just purchased — the green Subaru that I’ve affectionately named Rory — gives me exhilarated freedom and independence, I also feel burdened. Because in order to have this freedom of motion, I have to give up other freedoms.
I have to give up extra time to make extra money to pay for his purchase. That extra money could have been used for a few fun weekend road trips, but as is the classic catch 22, I give up my adventure resources for the adventure vehicle, hoping that at some point the weights will balance closer to the side of plenty rather than scarcity.
Rory is also unpredictable. He’s old, 18 to be exact. A few weeks ago his radiator gave into the pressure of those years and cracked, spilled out its liquid and nearly toasted his engine. Then a string of other hidden problems surfaced: broken thermostat, blown head gasket, stripped bolts in the engine block. Now there’s an oil leak. There goes about 1,600 more dollars of adventure money. Oh well.