Today, I’m thankful for my car. It’s funny, because even back in college in little ol’ Corvallis, I always said I’ve never want to live somewhere I needed a car. When I moved to NYC after college, I reinforced the idea that I was not a car person. I turned 16 late in the game in high school and had friends who both had their own cars and loved to drive, so I never even drove that much in high school. Fast forward to last spring, and I’m moving to Albany: a place where I very much would need a car. My mom stopped driving a few years ago as her eyesight deteriorated, and she was apparently thisclose to selling her little ’99 Corolla to someone before my move came about. So instead I took the car from her, drove it cross-country, and became someone who’s responsible for a car.
I’m still not used to car ownership — even though people remark that my car is relatively clean of junk, it’s definitely not that clean. But some things I’m just too lazy to care about. On the other hand, this 12-year-old, California-sheltered, little car was given to me with only 35,000 miles on it and it was in basically perfect condition. We’re now at about 52,000 miles after a year and a half in Albany, although the car has been spared a real winter. For now. I love having the freedom of driving around, of being able to buy tons of groceries at once, of being able to joyride and sing along to music on my commute (so many times I wanted to belt out songs on the subway). I still think it’s important to live somewhere significantly walkable, like Center Square, but having the car for commuting and whatnot has been an agreeable change. And now my car and I will be extremely cozy as I commute 80 miles a day for my new job. Fun times!