There’s a certain thrill in cruising around in a genuine clunker. Perhaps it’s the influence of countless films I’ve seen. When I’m behind the wheel of my 1988 Chevy Impala, which I snagged for just $500, I can’t help but feel like a character straight out of a quirky indie flick.
If the protagonist had a rug that truly brought everything together, then my car is the most authentic thing I’ve ever owned — it ties my chaotic life into a neat bundle.
There are zero expectations when you drive a beater. If there are any, it might be that you’re a bit of a hot mess. I know that when I drive by the mother of an old friend, she likely assumes my life is a disaster. Honestly, judging by the state of my car, it’s a reasonable assumption. If I saw someone driving my ride, I’d think their life had taken a wrong turn too.
And sure, my life has had its fair share of bumps, but that’s not the main point, yet it kind of is. You can have a life that’s gone off the rails in various ways, and even if you’ve polished that turd, it’s still — well, pretty much a turd.
On particularly good days, I feel as if I’m the star of a film that never quite made it to the big screen but has somehow developed a cult following. That’s how it feels.
When I pull up to my child’s school, I’ve shed the need for pretense and the burden of first impressions. It’s like I’m channeling my inner Uncle Buck, armed with my hard-knock Ph.D. and a clunky car that serves as my trophy for navigating life’s challenges.
They don’t manufacture cars like this anymore. Nor do they create people who want to drive bulky vehicles with ashtrays, bench seats, and tape decks that turn like the Titanic. In today’s world, we crave money, health, and curated lives.
I’ve been there, and it felt hollow. Honestly, I’m much happier driving 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 roll into my driveway — a house I don’t own, riding on a spare tire and three hubcap-less wheels — I’m greeted by a wall with “DEEZ NUTS” spray-painted on it, like a modern-day Gatsby keeping it real, even my literary devices have a sense of humor about how far my material possessions have fallen.
Pretending to be something I’m not is exhausting. Sure, I drive a junker and have “DEEZ NUTS” as my welcoming committee, but I’m in the best phase of my life. Not physically — let’s be real, I can’t even bend over without gasping for air after a treadmill session where I felt like a science experiment in front of two elderly gentlemen. But I’m living. I’m lounging on a couch that feels like it came from a death metal concert, my smartphone connected to outdated technology, and I’m as relaxed about it as a classic Earth, Wind & Fire song.
My favorite comedian once said, “I don’t have much respect for those who lack the courage to lose complete control over their lives for a few years.” Well, my friend, I’m living that reality.
Alright, not entirely. But three years back, I was a mess, akin to a lost character crying over familial issues while feeling like a tragic figure rather than a comedic one. Now, I’m steadily working my way out, slowly but surely.
When you lose control, keeping up appearances becomes an impossible task. Gained a few pounds? Time to buy new clothes. At the cardiologist? You strip down and think, “Go on, take a good look.” Forget about bras and shoes when you work from home; everything within a mile radius is now considered “the cafeteria.”
This kind of honesty is refreshing. It’s the “DEEZ NUTS” kind of honesty. It’s the “riding on a spare tire until the wheels fall off” kind of honesty. It’s the “I paid for the ride, now I’m going to enjoy it” kind of honesty. It’s the spirit of the Dude with a hint of Creedence.
Some people climb mountains to reach their goals; others, like me, are clawing their way out of a hole we didn’t dig ourselves. Regardless, the journey is worthwhile. Solidarity.
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In summary, embracing life’s imperfections can lead to unexpected happiness. Driving an old clunker might not seem glamorous, but it’s liberating. The freedom to be authentic, regardless of appearances, brings a unique joy that’s hard to find in the fast-paced world of today.