Immobile mobility
It is very difficult to live my life without some kind of “grand arc” that ends up becoming an obsession. The thing of the moment is buying a new car.
I admit that for a long time I lived thinking I could be where I am without having my own vehicle, just as I managed to do for many decades of life. I was proven wrong as soon as I began to see that a theoretically vast public transport network does not mean a good public transport network, especially when it comes to service frequency.
The solution from everyone around me, even those who want to be “green” through and through, is to buy a car. It is even funny to think that one of my closest friends in this corner of the world is a vegetarian, works directly with arts and culture, and drives across the continent in a huge diesel-powered Land Rover.
I admit that I made a slight miscalculation with my first car. I, who always think I am “smarter” than those around me because I come from where I come from, fell for the pitch of a born salesman. Without hesitation, I bought a visually magnificent and very economical SEAT Ibiza, but one with a series of problems I could not even get a warranty against.
I spent a good amount of money on the car not only to fix those problems but also to bring it into modernity. I put an Android system in place of the original radio, a parking camera, and sensors. And I only did not go further because I was talked out of it by the owner of the garage that did the work.
In the few months I had without the major commitments I now have with my family, I went quite far with this car. I drove all the motorways around me and even crossed a few borders. I could have done more, but I, cowardly as I am as a driver with little street experience, was not bolder. A (very big) mistake on my part.
Because of these commitments, I had to get rid of it. Not immediately, because I did not want to deal with sales on platforms where my already heightened anxiety would get even worse. And I have already accepted that I will never recover the amount I paid for the car, much less what I invested in its repairs and improvements. That is life, after all.
The problem is that once I convinced myself that I would sell the car, I also convinced myself — even if only for a short period of time — that I did not need a car of my own. After all, Uber would be enough for my trips and, if it came to it, it is possible to use child seats in cars suited for that purpose.
A gigantic mistake on my part. No parentheses this time.
The nature of my work means I am “stuck” at the computer throughout the week, including weekends. On the few weekends when I am free, the last thing I want to do is stay at the computer. That is very difficult to do when you live in a neighbourhood without much leisure on offer nearby, and with very limited public transport options.
So my situation is unavoidable. I need a car, and it cannot be as cramped as the good old Ibiza that carried me around for barely a year, but that could have done much more if I did not have so many “issues” in my head.
At the same time, I am not a big fan of very large cars. When I was younger and still without regular driving experience, I thought I was a fan of the good old “boats” from the traditional brands, which in my homeland are rare to find but here are literally on every corner. And living where I live, in a place with narrow streets where the margin for any kind of manoeuvre is often slim, having one of those cars in my hands would only cause me even more panic.
Since this would be the family’s secondary car, it does not need to be one of those cars, nor even a station wagon, a type of car I did not want to find myself forced to buy. But now, as I write these words, I feel that soon this will be my inevitable fate. I hope not, but my hopes to the contrary are truly scarce.
All that said, I am facing a “first world” problem in this matter. The national used-car market is rubbish, and any car that I find even minimally desirable either has absurd mileage considering the smallness of the country, or has a simply impractical price. But just next door, in a country with a much broader market, that same vehicle is much cheaper even taking into account transport, legalization, and import tax costs.
Here we enter into a matter of personal problems with self-confidence. I am always amazed when I see very young people driving very old cars without all the gadgets demanded by the European Union for safety reasons. Gadgets that allegedly greatly increased the base price of new cars in Europe, also leading automakers this year to appeal for the European Union to abandon at least part of its plans to make the continent’s car fleet “greener” and safer than it already is.
Although I like driving, my lack of experience and the feeling that I am a nuisance to those on the road with me lead me to almost avoid getting behind the wheel. Unless it is a matter of “life or death”, I prefer to delegate that task to someone else.
I have to admit that this comes from the fear of causing harm to other people. Not just the material damage of a car with a dented bumper. I can be very attentive on the road, much more than many people with years and years of driving experience. But nobody is perfect.
That is why I am in what has already become a long search for this replacement car, triangulating between a car that is neither too big nor too small, with a reasonably powerful engine, and with minimally reasonable safety equipment so that I can drive at night without fear of changing lanes and unknowingly cutting someone off. All of this without paying too much for it.
I could very well finance a more expensive car and fit the loan payments into my monthly budget. But chronic poverty and the desire to avoid taking on any kind of long-term credit for anything other than a house mean that I do not want to follow this plan.
I have had many preferences and “targets” throughout this journey that seems to have no end. I hope to bring it to a close very soon. I have already accepted that there is no perfect car, unless I assemble it myself. What one can do is expand the “margins” of one preference or another until arriving at a minimally reasonable solution that does not bring me immediate regret. Much like everything else in life.