On Owning a Car
A car is a tool. Everything expensive about cars comes from forgetting that.
A car is a tool
Under FIRE and living below your means, a car is just a tool. Even this tool was a luxury in my youth. That taught me its core value: it saves time, and it shelters you from rain and sun. Nothing more.
Cheap, used, paid off, kept for years
The cars worth keeping were the plain ones — used, cheap, driven for many years. They taught me three lessons.
One: shops are too good at selling service. They push tire rotations and balancing far more often than needed, plus the occasional real repair. Pay only for what the car actually needs.
Two: inspect before you buy. I once skipped a close look at a roof. Months later I found it heavily stained.
Three: tired driving is the real risk. One hot day, drained by a commute stuck in traffic, I missed the brake. Slow-speed collision. The car got repaired. The driver ahead came back with a medical claim.
The storm that changed my mind
The turning point was a night drive. Pitch dark, pouring rain, lightning. I couldn’t see a thing. I was too shy to pull over and wait it out, because I had a passenger. Suffering through that drive made me want a newer car with at least some driving assistance. So I got it.
Being honest: the status trap
Was I always fully honest with myself? No. The temptation is real: a bigger, newer car to fit in with the other parents at kid pickup. Status, dressed up as safety. A one-person commute doesn’t need that much vehicle. It’s the same status trap I warned about in my lessons. Car marketing runs on social proof and authority, and once you can name those levers they lose some of their grip — Influence Lab is where I keep them.
Do I want a Tesla? Not yet. My own eyes and hands still work.
Tools become liabilities
Cars demand maintenance, repairs, and insurance — even more than houses do. The pricier the car, the more it costs. Together with the house you live in, they aren’t assets. They’re liabilities.