About cars

I’m not really that bothered about cars. As long as mine continues to work and gets me from A to B safely and in comfort, I’m happy. I didn’t actually own my first car till I was 35 and I’m only on my second. A car in my opinion is best bought new and kept for ten years.
Some people (men inevitably) like to pigeon-hole others according to what they drive. So here it goes: I drive a VW Sharan, that is a people-mover. I like a VW (my first car was a Passat estate and before than I drove Clara’s Golf) because they are solid and don’t break down on you, which is just as well as I haven’t a clue about what’s under the bonnet.
Actually the statement “I drive a VW” is misleading: I keep a VW Sharan in the garage and use it when I have to, mainly to move large amounts of stuff, cover long distances, or get to places which are not easily accessible by public transport. Most of the time, as you may know from “About cycling”, I use my bike to get around Brussels. However, there are times when I need the car. The car really comes into its own when we’re on holiday in the countryside, in the moutains, at the seaside, where it can get us where we want when we want.
In town though, using the car to get from A to B is not my default option. I find driving in Brussels particularly stressful and unpleasant given the behaviour of the average driver round here. The basic problem is that drivers have an unrealistic idea of how long it takes to get about the city. They rarely leave themselves enough time and they become impatient, are inconsiderate towards other road-users and take unnecessary risks. The worst thing is that this behaviour is contagious. What is it they tell learners ? “ you must fit in with the driving pattern”. I find I have to fight hard against turning from Dr Jekyll into Mr Hyde once I get behind the steering wheel in Brussels. I really don’t like what it does to me, so I’d rather be on my bike.

Out of town, it’s different: “Oh for the open road! “(Mr Toad).
I quite enjoy driving on an empty road, in the coutryside, especially in the mountains or along the coast. I learned to drive in Yorkshire which is full of hills and winding roads. So I like changing gears. It is nice to feel in charge of the vehicle, to make it do what I want. I find an automatic particularly un-nerving. When there’s not too much traffic I like to watch the changing landscape and see the world go by.
I wasn’t always that confident though. I was taught to drive by my father when I was 17. I failed my first test. I knew I was going to when I saw the examiner flinch as I took a bend a bit too wide into the path of an oncoming lorry. After passing it at the second attempt, I was a somewhat diffident driver. When I moved away from home and didn’t have regular access to a car, I gradually drove less and less until at some point I stopped driving altogether for several years, having lost the courage. I forced myself to take it up again when Julia was on the way and it was clear we were going to need more than one driver in the family.
Now in fact I do the lion’s share of the driving when we alternate on long trips. Most often is Brussels to Monfalcone. It’s a fairly tedious slog on the motorway: 1270 km that take at least 14 hours with the pauses. We keep promising ourselves to get out of the habit of doing it at one sitting, but never do. The best part is the Austrian section through the Alps, quiet and scenic. Having got used to driving on German Autobahnen which have no speed limit, I have an unfortunate habit of straying over the speed limit elsewhere, as the car cruises happily at 140 km/h. I’ve been fined three times over the years for doing so.
I enjoy discovering new countries by car and have organized two very successful road trip holidays in the US. I like the freedom to set my own timetable and to stop off as things catch my fancy.

Have you noticed how on adverts for cars, they’re always cruising around on open roads through big empty spaces or negotiating curiously empty city-scapes, sometimes even without a driver? It’s all totally mendacious. Most drivers, including myelf, spend most of their time at the wheel either in heavy urban traffic or on busy motorways.
The car is sold as a dream, but frequently it is the stuff of nightmares.
The car is sold as the key to freedom, but can soon end up being a cell on wheels.
The car is sold, sold and sold. It’s the biggest purchase we ever make apart from our house and has to be made again and again as it wears out. A glance at my accounts shows that my car costs me as much as food, even though I don’t use it every day. Cars make the Western economies go around and that’s not just good news for business which makes and sells them but also for government which taxes them. No one really has an interest in changing the situation and yet cars are the bane of urban life, congesting our cities and polluting them with exhaust gasses and noise. Many cities seem to be built around the car rather than around man. Some more enlightened town councils are moving away from that now and reclaiming their historic centres for people, always with beneficial results. The car is a major source of environmental damage generally. And yet the zealots will sooner tell you to stop flying, change your light-bulbs and install solar panels than to stop driving.
In fact our whole system is geared towards the car. Public transport is often inadequate, unreliable, infrequent, uncomfortable and expensive. Moreover, the economics of the car are skewed with its huge sunk costs so that it appears to be cheaper in marginal terms for individual journeys. Given that situation, people would be daft to stop using their cars. And they don’t. And I use mine, when I need to.

The narrative that bolsters the demand side of the economic equation is strong. The car symbolizes freedom when it is understood to be synonymous with mobility. It’s the freedom thing which makes Americans even more addicted to the car than we are. There are of course many other aspects to freedom than freedom of movement, but mobility is psychologically powerful as representing instant escape. “About being here” often argues that happiness involves coming to terms with being “here” rather than rushing off to “there”; escape should not be necessary. Mobility is not everything and yet it is essential in this dislocated society we have organized for ourselves where no one has all their points of focus, family, professional and leisure located within walking distance of each other. The car also symbolizes social status: the outer evidence of material success. There’s a whole snobbery that attaches to the vehicle we drive: I am what I drive, you are what you drive. The car for some is a weird extension of their persona and if you accidentally scratch it they get aggressive with you. Personally I’m not that bothered, I don’t even wash my car, apart from making sure I can see well out of the windows for safety reasons.

As you can see, I have mixed feelings about cars. Maybe the truth is I like my car but don’t like other people’s cars. The roads would be just fine, if it weren’t for other people’s cars. Not to mention lorries and those awful camping-cars and caravans. Once you get inside a car you cut yourself off from the outside world and start having some very funny thoughts. Cars can get obsessive. As the quintessence of individualism they promote selfishness. They are actually a reflection of the society in which we live. It’s good to get out of the car when you can.