To Own or Not to Own — Is a Car Essential?
A question with the answer wrapped inside
My first car was a 1972 Ford Pinto, a car known for catching fire when hit from behind if the gas tank was punctured. Fortunately, that never happened while I owned the car, but every drive was a gamble.
You can find Pintos included on lists of the worst cars ever built, but I loved my lemon-colored manual lemon. In California, where I grew up, cars were considered essential transitioning-to-adulthood gifts. I was conditioned to believe that cars were sources of freedom and identity.
I embraced the sanctity of the automobile until I temporarily abandoned my car.
In my early twenties, I lived abroad in Dublin, Paris, and a city near Tokyo. My urge to experience the world turned out to be stronger than my attachment to a car. The beloved Pinto went up on blocks. I hardly thought about it while I was away.
I was learning that I could thrive without a car in places that had decent public transportation. I bicycled, rode buses, took subways, and walked for hours around unfamiliar neighborhoods in foreign cities. Overall, I had a much more intimate relationship with those three cities and their inhabitants.
