The heady proletarian lure of consumption

Well. The strange question today is: “who is writing this post?” It is I, and yet a new I, one who continues down the path of radical life changes, the journey from silly manchild to less silly adult man. None too soon, either.

Last night Heather and I, after days of research, hied ourselves hence to the VW dealership and leased a 2008 Jetta sedan. The choice seemed inevitable once we took into account her condition, the age of my current car (15 grand old years), the rattly-chuggily intrepid goodness of a sturdy car being driven into the ground, the comfort level, the fuel efficiency (rather, the lack thereof), the various small things going askew that were being triaged out of repair funds. In other words, no longer a bachelor, I can’t keep driving a beater.

Can’t? What an unfamiliar word to me! In the spirit of Hawkeye or Grizzly Adams, I fancied myself a rugged individualist who cared not a whit for the benefits of luxury. Yet by spurning luxury, I began to redefine the term while the rest of the civilized world crept past me. Sidedoor airbags? Fuel efficiency? Seats you can sit in for more than ten minutes? Unnecessary for a real man who has gear to haul!

And so today I sit in my seat with the same ass that rode here in a car younger than my friends’ children and mentally review the math on the purchase (it works, it works, I swear to you).

One of the inspirations for this radical decision was Stephen M. Pollan’s book Die Broke. In effect, by leasing we spend less each month for a better car; three years after the purchase, we flip the minimal downpayment over to the next car. While we don’t own the vehicle, cars depreciate so rapidly that ownership, and the option to sell, aren’t very lucrative. Five years after you buy a car, you’re paying off a loan based on the price of the new car, which is now worth half or less of its original price. Meanwhile, we have a fresh one every few years, with full warranty on a shiny new set of car guts with no wear and tear. We like this mode of thinking.

Moreover, we like the new eyes with which we see quality of life issues. We’re not in survivalist mode any more, shopping at thrift stores (well, sometimes), salvaging furniture, ignoring the opportunity to tailor our environment to our needs. With a good job, we can embrace some simple pleasures, such as new, comfortable furniture and a fresh coat of paint on the walls. Suddenly, our apartment is a pleasant place to be.

And the drive home ain’t so bad either.