A Car Owner

This morning I awoke early. Well, relatively early. Friday nights always seem to last a little longer than others which means Saturday mornings tend to begin a little later than most. But this day I had places to go so I awoke ten minutes before my alarm to a quiet house. I laid still for a few minutes just listening and sorting through my thoughts. The rough draft of my daily plan presented itself for inspection. I was short approximately $1.35. There was a quarter on my desk. There is probably a dime too. I’ll dig through my coin jar for the rest.

First I’ll go home, then the dealership, then the bank, then back to the dealer. Oh, but I must remember to print out my coupon. And the inspection sheet. Unless the bank has one already. But better safe than sorry. I have to finish by two or the bank will close. Also that is usually when my ride to winco leaves so it would be nice to be back in time for that. But if everything works then I’ll have my own car, I won’t need a ride to the grocery store ever again. But I will miss the excuse to spend time with them. Shopping in small groups always seems so much more fulfilling. You can discuss purchases and dream adventures in the midst of the fruits and desserts. Okay. Well maybe I’ll miss it today but it still makes sense to keep carpooling. I’ll just drive some of the time. We can trade off. I’ll pull my own weight for once.

I hear the cd engage in my alarm clock and I’m off with a start, silencing it before it begins so my roommate can continue sleeping. He values his sleep the way most people value children, constantly counting them to be assured none have gone missing.

I eat, then remember a book on the couch that has been twenty years in coming. 20 minutes later I drop the book and rush through the shower. I’m outside and on the road. The sun is up. It’s warm. That means almost above freezing. I walk down the back lane towards the bus stop and the dog barks its head off. 8 months and we still aren’t friends. I need to feed it more. The world is beautiful. The sun is waging a full war on winter today. I can already tell it will raise into the forties. I may even set aside one of my layers. Few are awake as I approach campus. The roads are largely clear and I’m the only person waiting for the crosswalk. A few cars trickle passed but not many. I glance down a road to where K—– lives. I’m not going that way today although I feel the present need and desire. I wonder if she will be impressed by my car.

My car. Will it make a difference? Will I somehow become more of a man because I have the power of transport? I am nearly 25 and I’ve never owned a car. Some of my friends and neighbors worked their tails off in high school so they could have one. So they could drive to Wendy’s any time they wanted to for a frosty and burger. Many of my college friends were given cars by their parents. Mine had offered but I had always refused. I didn’t need one. I couldn’t afford one. I would rather have time and food then transport. Besides, I was moonlighting as an environmentalist. I earn a lot of respect in those circles, if only in my head, for not having a car.

I always assumed I would get one eventually. I didn’t see a way to survive in this world without one. Not if I perused the American dream. Eventually I would live in a place where individual transport would become necessary. I would have to join the world of insurance, and maintenance, and auto loans and credit. All those things seemed so adult and yet so juvenile. I had avoided them for years. Last summer a girl I was chasing had mentioned in passing that she liked a guy with a car, as if the car somehow made a difference in his quality. I had always assumed such jokes to be excuses by men to play with cars. But hearing her say it changed something in me which I refused to show her. I began to consider it seriously.

Even after she thoroughly shot me down I continued to watch, observing and weighing pros and cons. Particularly I watched the budget. Could I afford it? Could I pay for a car? I started graduate school and received a major regular stipend. I found myself making more money while living the same undergraduate lifestyle. It was becoming possible. It still took 6 months to convince myself I could pull it off. I research credit and loans and cars and finally by Christmas I decided it was time.

Then I had to go shopping. I started discussing and weighing models and years and deciding on a price range. I even came back from Christmas break and found my roommate had bought exactly the same type of car that I had decided on. I began seeing Subaru Outbacks everywhere. They were at the trailheads, and in the parking lots around campus. I passed four of them to and from campus every day. They haunted my dreams as I poured over internet listings to find what was available.

I test drove a few finally ending up on a 2000 blue outback. It had seen some action but it was cheaper than others I had seen. Plus I liked the low pressure environment of the dealership. Then I spent two weeks trying to figure out how to actually get a loan. I’m still working on that one. And auto insurance. It seems my freshman brain calculated correctly. A car is probably a $100 a month commitment. And that’s if I leave it in the driveway.

Well. I made it to my first bus, and just barely to my second bus. I’m now weaving across my mountain valleys towards adulthood, as if owning a car somehow made you more adult. I’m playing with thoughts of road trips, dreaming of the possibilities of driving. A year ago I was given a stereo. Both of my parents pulled me aside that Christmas and told me that in their day there was a saying that a man was ready to get married when he had a car, a stereo, and a…a what. Something else which I already had. Now I have a car. Or I will be the end of the day. Better not jump ahead. Will I still ride the bus? Will people now determine if I’m home by the state of the driveway? Will I visit my parents more often? I fear I don’t actually need a car. I’ve done quite well without it. Economically it probably doesn’t make sense. But I refuse to count the numbers. I can pay for it. It’s an expensive lesson in living in the world but perhaps just as necessary as filing my own taxes and graduating college.

I’ve heard much talk late of the vagueness of male gender roles. Men are lost in this world. So says the nearly 25 year old single student who is everything the girls say they want but can’t seem to make himself available. What does it take for us to grow up? Did I become a man at 14 when I earned my eagle rank? Was it at 18 when I left home for college and never went back for more than a holiday? Was it when I went on a two year adventure in California? Was it when I started filing taxes as an independent three years ago? Was it when I graduated college and stopped taking money from my parents in grad school? Maybe it will be when I trade my childhood middle name for my older first name. Perhaps there isn’t a fixed day or time where I can draw the chalk line. Growing up is a processes more complicated than buying a car. More expensive, more life changing and hopefully more fun to drive. Hopefully.