Blog

Short blog posts, journal entries, and random thoughts. Topics include a mix of personal and the world at large.

Mechanical sculpture

It’s somewhat ironic that there’s a Chevron gas station just a few blocks down from where I live. The convenience and proximity is very nice, obviously, but I don’t commute to work! It would be nice in theory to be able to fill up before I set off on another slogging drive. Thankfully, it’s only a 10 minute walk to campus; my daily two miles of exercise.

And thankfully I don’t drive very much, because gasoline prices have gone through the proverbial roof recently. A gallon of 91 octane at that corner Chevron station is currently at $4.75, which is rather high. I joked that if I did have to commute, I’d have to get rid of my BMW M2 and its ~20 miles-per-gallon average fuel mileage and get something way more efficient. Or perhaps a fully electric vehicle.

But then the question becomes: could I really afford to own a particular car if higher gas prices will force me to sell it? That’s a deep-cut into my spending numbers that I don’t really want to go into. It’s scary. Besides, the reality of the situation is: I can drive as little as I want. Just enough to keep the engine healthy by running it periodically if I have to.

That’s why I can afford to keep the M2 around. At present moment, car ownership is more symbolic than anything. Sure I use it at least once week to visit my parents, but other than that, the M2 simply sits. It’s more living room decoration than kitchen utensil. Admittedly, the mere fact I own the car is a large part of the whole experience. I get a sense of joy just seeing it parked outside through the window of my room.

All this is to say: gas prices are too damn high, but it hasn’t affected me much at all.

Ownership blues

Such is the negative side of car ownership that it’s a real downer when things such as a tire puncture happens. You’re going about your day nicely on the commute and then suddenly there’s a huge popping noise; not a minute later the dashboard is furiously blinking at you to say the front left tire is gone. After some curse words you are forced to stop the car to assess the situation, after which you thank the heavens that your particular car has still got a functional spare tire - rather than the can of goo that’s en vogue these days - to replace the failure.

After that episode, you now have to make a call to the tire shop to get the puncture repaired and/or the tire replaced. Good news for the tire shop, bad news for you because you’ve now got to take time out of the workday to make the trip over, and because of COVID-19 protocols, getting an appointment is neither easy nor quick. There’s also the looming potentiality for even more hurt: the car you have is all-wheel drive, so laws of physics dictates that if you have to replace one tire, the one on the opposite end of the axle must also be replaced as well, lest the differential gets destroyed due to the circumference mismatch.

You had plans for a good day, and then out of the blue you’re now down the price of one brand new tire, and a half a day of precious time.

That’s just part of the game, isn’t it? It comes with the territory of owning a car: you have to spend time and money to maintain and upkeep it. Such complicated machines aren’t destined to run perfectly all the time, and of course there’s many external factors as well, such as hazardous nails on the roadways. It doesn’t help that us car enthusiasts are so obsessive about our vehicles, constantly worry about its condition and making sure its as perfect as possible. The stress goes through the roof should you have to street-park your car, scared of the one day you’ll return to some act of vandalism, or worse, a mangled mess of metal.

Well it’s a good thing that everything I’ve described above happened to my brother and his Audi A3, though I can surely sympathize with the anxiety and hassle of having to deal with the less glamours parts of owning a car. Tire problems especially: it’s really down to pure luck.

I met the first owner of my GT3!

A bit of a surprise treat this past weekend: I met the very first owner of my 911 GT3.

It was a surprise because the chance meeting was completely unsolicited, and the car meet I attended on Saturday wasn’t even a Porsche-specific event. While cars costing into the six-figures aren’t exactly common, a plain GT3 is not in the realm of limited-edition Ferraris, where a car’s provenance is immensely important and therefore previous owners are well documented. Porsches produces thousands of 911s each year, so I held zero expectations of being able to meet the first owner of my particular GT3.

It’s a small world indeed.

I knew something was strange when I saw a dude taking a keen look at my GT3 when there was more interesting metal parked in the same lot (a GT3 of the RS variety, for instance). After ascertaining that it was me who owns the car, the guy followed up with a few questions pertaining to the GT3’s origins, and it matched up with what he had speculated: this was the very car he used to own. He had bought it from a Colorado dealership back in April of 2015, and after 8,000 or so miles the GT3 was then sold to a local dealership, putting that money towards a McLaren 570S.

There’s a second owner of my GT3 sandwiched between me and the guy I met on Saturday, and after this serendipity I have some hopes of meeting that person as well. It turns out the Porsche enthusiast community in Northern California is rather small.

A normal person reading this may think it ridiculous that there’s people like me who gets excited about meeting the previous owners of our cars; I get it, but a 911 GT3 is not an ordinary car. It was quite informative and special to chat with the first owner on why he configured the car as he did: picking Sapphire Blue Metallic to stand out in a sea of white and silver colored 911s, and forgoing the option for lightweight buckets because it would’ve delayed delivery for six months (one sympathizes). Super geeky details made interesting because the ordering process for a GT3 - or any 911 for that matter - is intricate and specialized. As the third owner, I never got to experience that process, so it was fun to hear the original owner tell his story.

I received some constructive information, too: the GT3 upon delivery was flat-bedded to a shop for paint protection film, so the paint underneath ought to be absolutely pristine. After the film application, the entire car – including the wheels – received ceramic coating; great news for me because I can stop waxing the car during my wash routine. Lastly, the first owner confirmed he took the car to the track regularly, which doesn’t bother me at all because first that’s what the GT3 is developed for, and secondly these cars are paradoxically more prone to break when it doesn’t get driven hard.

911 GT3s are driver’s car in the truest sense, and I’m glad my car have received the proper amounts of exercise since it’s left Zuffenhausen. Meeting the original owner and learning about his chapter with car gave me more confidence and admiration for my GT3, and I’m grateful for this happy coincidence.

The green lizard was a popular attraction.

Should I get a second car?

Wait a minute; how did I go from no car at all to now pondering the necessity of a second car? Funny how perspectives and situations can completely turn around in less than a year.

Back in May of last year I embarked on the ‘no car’ journey, having sold the MX-5 and then henceforth only used public transportation and the occasional ride-sharing to get myself to places. That experiment ended this January when I bought the GT3, though I’ve still been taking the bus to and from work. The 911 isn’t the greatest of cars to commute with for many reasons, some idiosyncratic, some innate.

One of the idiosyncratic reasons is the lack of secured parking at where I live. There’s absolutely no way I am street-parking the GT3, especially since my neighborhood is not of the high-income and or gated variety. So instead I park the car at work, where there’s a covered parking complex. It’s not the most ideal situation to have my beloved car be located on the other side of the city, but it’s the best option short of paying monthly for a parking spot or storage unit closer to home. The carpark at work is somewhat secured, and more importantly the GT3 is not exposed to the elements.

Obviously then in order for me to go out driving on the weekends, I basically have to first head to work – every single time. This in it of itself isn’t too bad because I quite enjoy riding the bus and listen to podcasts. The problem starts whenever I need to do more than taking the GT3 out for a spin, such as maintenance work or giving it a solid detailing. Any gear required for such servicing, I’d need to schlep it with me on the bus, which can vary from merely inconvenience to downright impossible depending on the size of the job.

What I need is a second vehicles for parts running.

It needn’t be fancy or remotely sporting: all I need is a simple car that’s easy to drive, while small and inexpensive enough to be conveniently parked in San Francisco without worry. The cheapest new car on the market - those tend to be subcompact in size - available for lease should suffice.

But that presents a conundrum: do I use the second car to commute as well, and forgo using public transportation? In terms of being a kind citizen to the environment it wouldn’t be a good decision, and in terms of costs it’ll be significantly higher than the $78 I’m paying for the monthly pass. Dealing with the grind of Bay Area traffic is also a huge negative against this move. However, the convenience factor is difficult to ignore: the many hours saved, and not having to carry a bucket of tools with me on the bus.

We shall see what happens.

Do I really need a car?

Is there a thing super low-key bothering you? Is it taking up head-space causing subconscious anxiety, stress, and otherwise in the negative?

It shall do you well to get rid of said thing, even if you have to alter your lifestyle to fit such an arrangement. Having that gnawing feeling taking rent at the recesses of your brain isn't healthy, and you won't realize this until you've done the deed.

I realized it when I decided to sell my car. What was once my ultimate expression of freedom and joy, vehicle ownership have turned into a something quite unpleasant.

For someone who have loved cars since I was cognizant of what they were, it's super weird to say that I'm going car-less for the foreseeable future. Public transport and various ride-sharing apps will get me around San Francisco satisfyingly beyond an adequate facsimile.

How did car ownership sour on me? Ironically (and perhaps not coincidentally) a large part of it is San Francisco. With an extra 200,000 people crammed into this seven square-miles city within the last decade, and many more making the commute from the Bay Area, driving is not an advantage. Our traffic hell is notoriously ridiculed by outsiders, and the lack of parking is so dire that I've known people to have parked some ways from home and had to bus the final part.

It's practically Manhattan around here.

I simply don't drive enough to justify the hassle of dealing with all that. On weekends I'm an absolute homebody so the car only gets used for commuting. In the nearly three years I've own the MX-5, it's barely got 17,000 miles on it.

Commuting in San Francisco is devoid of any driving fun, and when that's the case, the ancillaries to ownership like periodic detailing and taking it to the dealership for maintenance becomes a grinding chore.

All of the aforementioned have slowly accumulated into a burden that was subconsciously dragging me down. The weight did not fully occur to me until the latest parking violation I received a few days ago and I finally have had it with the whole enterprise.

So it'll be public transport to work for the first time since high school. The Miata will be sold; for sure there'll be another car in my future, but for now I'll be super happy to get back my peace of mind