On Owning a Car
Even this boring topic earns a post. I can’t predict the future. The truth of the past is the only power I have. A letter to my kids: a car is a tool, and it’s easy to forget that.
A car is a tool
Under FIRE and living below your means, a car is just a tool. Yet even this tool was a luxury through my whole youth. That taught me its core value: it saves time, and it shelters you from rain and sun. Nothing more.
Cheap, used, and kept for years
The cars worth keeping were the plain ones — used, cheap, driven for many years. A few lessons came out of them.
One: shops are too good at selling service. 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 and found months later it was heavily stained. Small thing, but it’s the habit that matters.
Three: tired driving is the real risk. One hot day, drained from a commute stuck in traffic, I missed the brake and had a slow-speed collision. The car was repaired, but the driver ahead came with a medical claim.
The storm that changed my mind
The turning point came on a night drive — pitch-dark, pouring rain, lightning. I couldn’t see a thing, and was too shy to pull over and wait it out. Suffering through that drive made me want a car with at least some driving assistance.
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. You don’t need that much vehicle for a one-person commute. It’s the same status trap I warned about in my lessons: the most expensive thing you can buy, and it never pays off.
Do I want a Tesla? Not yet. I can still drive with my own eyes and hands.
Tools become liabilities
Cars, even more than houses, demand maintenance, insurance, and fuel. Together with the house you live in, they aren’t assets. They’re liabilities.