When Cars Suck

So yesterday was my 22nd birthday. It was nothing special, really, just a normal day. Except for the fact that my car broke down. Twice.

I love my car. Despite the fact that the gas gauge is broken, and the air conditioning, and the dash, I am still really attached to my car. It is my first… it is in my name, my responsibility alone. And even though it fails me sometimes, I think it is a brilliant piece of machinery, despite being over 20 years old.

But it is quite unfortunate when one of the only things that gives you the freedom to explore and travel on your own time decides that it no longer wants to abide by any time, and stops working. Especially when you are headed to work. On your birthday.

My car gives me freedom to move, to not be stuck in the small circle of busing around LA, to be able to drive my friends places and have that however-long car ride to deepen our connection, to be able to get away when everything seems to be going wrong. But my car also shackles me: to registrations, to license plates that fall off, to parking tickets for forgetting about street cleaning, to gas money, to the little odds and ends that come up that need to be fixed.

This post is just basically talking about how, when we are attached to something tangible, like a car or a train or a plane, or even a house, for those who do not like to travel, we are never really free. But the freedom that that object provides may just be worth it.