I’m going to get into so much trouble with this post…even though it has nothing to do with my writing.
I’ve always been a car guy, and that hasn’t changed much. I still notice the brand and model of virtually every car that goes by. When I go to the library to write, my first stop is to see if next month’s car magazines are in yet. If they are, my writing has to wait.
Cars are so central to us that reining in our car habit seems virtually unAmerican, odd—and quite unpopular. It’s The American Way to change cars on average every three years. Cars seem indispensable for how we live in the world we’ve built. And they meet legitimate needs; in fact, they have been a gift in so many ways (how else would I get the groceries home on a rainy day?). Some of us literally have no other option. But just the same…my feelings are changing.
Our cars (we have two) are relatively efficient. Still, my drive to a coffee shop comes at a cost: to me, of course—but still, there is an imposed cost on the world.
And one unintended consequence is something I never thought about until today: cars can make us kind of selfish. Hear me out on this.
I, Dale, invest MY wealth to drive MYSELF to MY destination of choice whenever I, DALE, see fit. I drive in air conditioned comfort, windows closed, usually the only person in my 5-passenger car, free to ignore every other person in sight (unless they get in my way).
My car takes me to be with people I love; it just as easily takes me AWAY from people. I may live in a city with serious needs, but I can drive through it and away from it any time I wish—because my car shields me from encountering those needs, or the people who endure them.
Were I walking or taking public transportation…this introvert would have to deal with people. Being in my car on cruise control at 70mph is the most sublime expression of individualism: you can’t touch me, and I can’t hear you.
Cars can make a statement. Some reflect a certain status; that “M” or “AMG” or “S-Type” on the trunk lid tells the world that We Are Something Special. It is now possible (if you have the money) to own a car capable of 300 mph. Perhaps that would get us to work on time.
We reject other options (except, perhaps, air travel) as too much bother, too inconvenient—and too much interaction with others? Cars keep our bubble intact. But virtually everything about them, from building to driving to retiring them to the wrecking yard, takes something away from God’s good earth, and leaves only residue. And virtually none of us object to that.
Confession: I’m not practicing what I seem to be preaching here, and I have no plans (yet) to radically re-shape how I move about. The thought terrifies me. So maybe I need to look in the mirror.
But for all the good ways that they serve us, I still wonder if our mechanized bubbles cost too much for the world to sustain.
