I've been driving a lot this summer, but getting behind the wheel is feeling more and more like a Last Days scenario.
I don't mean the end of the world, although of course that's possible. I mean the end of an automobile-centric way of life. No one has come up with a convincing solution to the dual problems of finite fuel and climate change. One way or another, it seems likely that we're going to be giving up our cars — if not this generation, then next.
Being a city dweller, I have a car mostly for weekends and vacation trips. I also need it for work, but only sort of; if I weren't a part-time working musician, with heavy equipment to lug around to gigs, I'd probably be like most Manhattanites and not own a car at all.
And so, despite being a car owner, I'm a public transportation snob. I think that if you are a patriotic American, or (more important) a patriotic citizen of Earth, and you are not a farmer, you should be living in or near a city and taking public transportation to work. If that's not practical now, you should be actively planning for it. And the governments of the world should be using carrots, then (eventually) sticks where needed, to aim societies in that direction.
Yet there's this nice house in the country, see…
Since my mother retired a couple of years ago to her house in Vermont, I find myself imagining retiring there too someday, assuming the house stays in the family. This actually takes quite an effort of imagination, because the prospects of my actually retiring, at any age, seem quite dim. But still. These dreams and pleasures lie deep in our natures.
Having a spread of land that's our own, whether real or just an aspiration, appeals deeply to our territorial side. Having access, and means, to hit the open road and go where we please when we please, whether it's to visit distant friends or relatives, spend time with nature, or just get away from something — that goes very deep as well. Perhaps it's a manifestation of our essential internal conflict. You know the one: between our earthbound reality and our mental capacity to dream to infinity.
Wherever we get them from, these ideas are not easy to give up, especially for Americans. Our foundational frontier tradition and our Eisenhower Interstate Highway System make sure of that.
So if these kinds of dreams have to die, they will die hard. The white picket fence, the second home in the country, the family road trip… whenever I turn the key in the ignition and roll off this once-Dutch island into the vastness of the mainland United States, I can't help thinking of these hopes and dreams grinding to a halt.