There’s something downright enjoyable about cruising around in a real clunker. Maybe it’s because I’ve indulged in too many feel-good movies. When I’m behind the wheel of my trusty old 1988 Chevy Impala that set me back just $500, I can’t help but feel like I’m channeling my inner free spirit.
If The Dude had a rug that really brought everything together, this car is my life’s unfiltered truth — it stitches my existence into something coherent.
When you drive a clunker, the expectations are pretty low. If there are any, they’re probably that you’re a bit of a mess. I know that whenever I pass the mother of an old friend, she probably assumes my life is a wreck too. Honestly, if I saw someone driving my car, I’d think their life had hit some serious bumps as well.
And sure, my life has seen its share of chaos, but that’s not the main point — or maybe it is. It’s entirely possible to have a life that feels like a series of unfortunate events and still find a way to shine through it all, even if it’s just a bit.
There are days when I feel like I’m starring in an indie film that never quite made it to the big screen but still has a loyal fan base. That’s how I feel now.
When I pull up to my kid’s school, I’ve shed the pretenses and the pressure to impress. I’m like Uncle Buck, proudly displaying my Ph.D. in hard knocks while my clunker serves as my trophy for trying to keep it real.
Cars like this are relics. They don’t make them like this anymore, and few people want to drive vehicles with bench seats and tape decks, not to mention a turning radius that feels like steering a ship. We crave wealth, health, and picture-perfect lives.
I’ve been there, and it felt empty. Now, I’m much happier with my clunker.
I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who I am, where I’ve been, and where I’m headed. When I park in front of my rented house with a donut tire and three missing hubcaps, the graffiti saying “DEEZ NUTZ” on the wall is like a quirky welcome mat, reminding me I’m keeping it real in a way that even my literary devices can laugh about.
Let’s be real: maintaining appearances is exhausting. Sure, I drive a clunker and have DEEZ NUTZ as my greeting, but I’m thriving in my own way. Not physically — let’s be honest, I can barely bend over without gasping for air, and I recently struggled through a treadmill test while being poked and prodded by two older gentlemen. But I’m living! I’m lounging on a vintage couch, with my smartphone jacked into outdated tech, and I’m as chill as an old Earth, Wind & Fire track.
My favorite comedian, Jake, once said, “I admire folks who have the guts to let their lives spiral out of control for a while.” Well, I’m living that experience.
Honestly, a few years back, I was in a darker place — think of a less glamorous version of a sitcom character sobbing over unfulfilled expectations. But I’ve clawed my way out, and I’m taking baby steps toward better days.
When life spirals, keeping up appearances is the last thing on your mind. If you gain some weight, you simply buy new clothes. When you find yourself at the doctor’s office, you might as well strut in with confidence, ready to face whatever comes next.
This kind of raw honesty is liberating. It’s the honesty of driving on a donut tire until my clunker gives out. It’s the “I bought the ticket, so I’m taking the ride” attitude, wrapped in a bit of humor and joy.
Some people climb mountains to reach their goals, while others of us are just fighting to escape a pit we didn’t dig ourselves. Either way, it’s all part of the journey.
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In summary, living authentically, even when life feels messy, can bring unexpected joy and fulfillment. Embracing the imperfections allows us to find happiness in the journey.