I love my car. No really. I absolutely adore it. Sure I don’t really know anything about my little Peugeot, other than the fact it’s blue and you push the pedal to make it go, but my little run-around is the best thing I’ve ever spent money on.
Not because it’s flashy or powerful or anything like that. I love it because, for a long time, my car was the only place in this world that was mine. It was a space of my own where I could exist without anyone else peering over my shoulder - somewhere to take me to awesome places but also for me to take a minute and just be.
Growing up in a small house with a big family, I’ve never really had a lot of privacy. From the day my little sister was born to the day I moved out at 24, I had to share a bedroom. Which honestly was fine most of the time. There wasn’t a lot I could do about it, but there were days when I was desperate for just a minute of peace away from the hustle and bustle.
This peaked when I first started seeing my then-boyfriend. I was constantly to-ing and fro-ing between his house and mine. He lived with his parents too, and though they were so kind and welcoming, I was still always a guest in someone else’s house.
It felt like I was constantly on my best behaviour, and even when it was just him and me alone in his room, it was still HIS room. It was his bed, his furniture, his stuff. My drawer of spare clothes and my toothbrush didn’t do much to stake my claim.
So that’s where my car came in. Combine the constant back and forth between two houses, as well as living out of a suitcase at least 50% of the time, my car legitimately stopped me from going mad. It became my sanctuary: my on-the-go storage unit and room-on-wheels where I could do whatever I wanted.
I’d keep bags of belongings in the boot so I’d always have things with me if I needed them - at one point every coat I owned lived on the backseat. It was also the one place I had control over. If I wanted to leave it messy, I could. If I wanted to decorate it with pink car mats and fluffy dice then more power to me!
Not only that but in an area of poor public transport, it was my freedom and independence. I could go wherever I wanted without having to beg my Dad for a lift. Even now I will always choose to drive somewhere. Sure, I could read more books on the train, but there is something about a long drive blasting music that just fills me with joy.
My car became more than just a way to get from A to B; it literally was a haven during a part of my life that had a lot of good times, but also a lot of challenges with my mental health and family matters. Though I have my own house now and don’t need that lifeline anymore, if I don’t have my car I start to panic. Not having it sitting on the drive makes me feel so trapped with the freedom to go anywhere taken away from me.
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I know it sounds silly, but for a long time, it was me and my little Peugeot against the world. Having my car got me through some tough times. And even now sometimes I find myself just parking outside my house and just sitting there before going in to embrace whatever chaos is waiting for me indoors. I may have my own space and feel a lot more settled in my life, but my car is still something I can’t ever imagine living without.