There’s a certain joy in cruising around in a clunker. Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen one too many films. When I’m behind the wheel of my 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass that set me back a mere $500, I feel like I’m tapping into my inner laid-back hero. If that iconic character had a rug that pulled everything together, this car is the real deal for me — it brings my life into focus.
Driving a clunker comes with no expectations, which is liberating. If anyone assumes anything, it’s that my life is a hot mess. I know when I pass by an old friend’s mother, she probably thinks I’m struggling. Honestly, based on the car I drive, I can’t blame her. If I saw someone in my situation, I would think their life had derailed, too.
And while my life has certainly seen its ups and downs, that’s not really the point — or maybe it is. It’s possible to have a life that’s taken a few wrong turns while still finding a way to embrace the chaos. Sure, I’ve polished a turd, but at the end of the day, it’s still a turd. Yet on those good days, I feel like I’m living in an offbeat indie flick that didn’t quite hit the mainstream but has its own cult following. That’s the vibe I’m channeling now.
When I pull up to my kid’s school, I’ve shed the need for perfection and first impressions. I’m like a modern-day Uncle Buck, armed with wisdom from life’s challenges and a clunky car that serves as a trophy for my efforts to stay genuine.
They don’t make cars like this anymore, and they certainly don’t make folks who want to drive large, outdated vehicles with tape decks and ashtrays. We’ve become enamored with money, health, and curated lives. I used to chase that, but it felt hollow. Now, I find more happiness in my beat-up ride.
I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who I am, where I’ve been, and where I’m heading. When I pull into my driveway in a car that’s barely holding it together, I’m met with a graffiti wall that reads “DEEZ NUTZ,” like a modern-day welcome mat for someone who’s keeping it real.
Pretending is exhausting, and I’ve had enough of it. I may drive a clunker, but I’m thriving in my own way. Not necessarily in peak physical condition — I struggled on the treadmill last week during a stress test, but mentally, I’m living life fully. I’m lounging on a couch that’s seen better days, with my smartphone connected to outdated tech, and I couldn’t be more relaxed.
My favorite comedian, Jake Turner, once said, “I admire those who have the guts to let their lives spiral out of control for a while.” Trust me, I’m in that space right now. Three years ago, I was at my lowest point, feeling like a failure and drowning in self-pity. But now, I’m clawing my way out and taking baby steps to regain control.
When you lose grip on things, the pressure to maintain appearances evaporates. If you gain weight, you simply buy bigger clothes. If you’re at the doctor’s office, you strip down without shame, owning your reality. You ditch the bra and shoes because working from home means anything within a mile feels like a cafeteria.
This kind of honesty is refreshing. It’s the raw, unfiltered truth of my life, with my old Buick as a metaphor for the journey. Some people scale mountains to achieve their goals, while others are just trying to escape a pit they didn’t dig. Regardless, the journey is worthwhile. We’re all in this together.
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In summary, driving a clunker may seem like a sign of failure, but it has brought me a sense of freedom and authenticity that I cherish. I’ve learned to embrace the messiness of life and find joy in the unexpected.