Lifestyle Choices
Originally published at Chrisgill.net. Please leave any comments there.
Simple decisions seem to have a way to turn into complex matters of personal identity, finance and the state of the world.
Take, for instance, my car.
A 1998 Chevy Malibu, it’s been through a lot, bought as a family car, staying with me through a year and a half of college, then becoming a graduation gift and mine outright. It’s been a workhorse - it has about 110,000 miles on it (83000 is about average for that car at this age) - has gone on road trips and survived a somewhat less that responsible girlfriend. I dropped it off this morning at the shop for an oil and filter change, and asked them to look at why my ABS/Brake light was coming on every now and again. No biggie.
Turns out I need new brake pads. Okay, reasonable. And I probably need the rotors machined. Ouch. And my positive battery cable? That’s corroded horribly, and I’ll need a new battery too, since the cable corroded *on* to the battery. Oh, and my fuel injection needs cleaning. Total we’re talking about $1100 worth of serious, mechanical repair needed (Going to get a second estimate elsewhere between work and class).
This is, I’d point out, about half the car’s blue book value.
There’s different ways to look at this, but the lifestyle impacts are really what I want to share. I can take public transit to work and school, which eliminates the direct, pressing, economic need for a car, or any private transportation. And, given the costs of repairs, insurance, fuel and everything else, turning it all in for a smart trip card has some real appeal. I can always join Zipcar and borrow one when I need to go grocery shopping.
Ah, but what about the *rest* of it? What about my lifestyle? I’m going up to Columbia, MD this weekend for a friend’s get-together. Couldn’t do that without a car. Metro’s iffy on the weekends, and late night, and in any event is often more time consuming than driving (ie: late-night trips back from College Park). As much as I may love, intellectually and (within limits) emotionally, public transit, sometimes it’s damned inconvenient. How much is my convenience worth?
Having a car in hand let me push off this kind of thinking for a while. Keep it going, worry about the rest later. But the car is a proxy for the self, a way of signaling to people how we want to be perceived. So, what do I do? Repair? Give it up? Replace it? If so with what? Compact? Scooter? Hybrid? How do *I* want to be perceived?