Pound Foolish?

Dearest Rachel –

I’m sure this is something that, under other circumstances, one might actually expect of a man my age. After all, isn’t it almost cliché for a man in his fifties to deal with a midlife crisis by quitting his job, finding himself a new woman, and getting himself a sporty new set of wheels (albeit not necessarily in that order)?

Of course, while I was ready to do the first thing long before it was an option available to me – and I will be forever grateful to you for telling me “you supported me through these past twenty-five years; now it’s my turn,” thereby offering me the chance to finally leave my toxic job and the work farce in general – I would never had even dreamed of ticking off the second item on that list. Although, with you gone, I can’t imagine myself going the rest of my life without anyone. So yeah, I guess I’m stuck fulfilling that part of the stereotype, however unintentionally and unwillingly.

But as for that last one? A sports car? Come on. I’m not a car guy, honey, as you well know. I don’t know the first thing about them, to be honest; as far as I’m concerned, they’re little more than a means for me to get from point A to point B. I don’t see them as sex symbols; they’re just transportation, as Detective Colombo was known to shrug his shoulders and say.

And yet… I can’t quite get this image out of my mind…

I sent this picture to you a year and three-quarters ago, and I still haven’t been able to get the idea of owning one of these things completely out of my head. It turns out to be the second generation of a crowd-funded, electric- and human-powered hybrid vehicle – and the fifth generation is now available for pre-order, presumably for delivery some time next year, with the possibility of a sixth generation in 2025.

What can I say? After over a year of dithering over it, I finally pulled the trigger, and sent in a deposit of €1,000, in order to get put on the waiting list. Apparently, the fifth generation run will only be 500 units, and I’m the 355th to actually put money down, thus increasing the chances that I can actually get one when they’re produced (there have been some 2,500 people who’ve signed up to pre-order, but over two thousand of these haven’t so much as transferred a deposit; putting money down moves me closer to the front of the line in terms of the likelihood of actually obtaining one of these machines). The form they sent me even included an option to request a preference for the sixth-generation model instead, and I decided to check that. As far as I can tell, the later model will be both more affordable while having more options to it, so the extra year’s wait won’t bother me in the slightest (unless something really goes wrong with my current car).

It’s a bit out of character for me to do something like this on what might appear to be a momentary impulse – and my dad has asked me a few questions that I admit to not having considered, such as maintenance, repairs and cold-weather functionality, not to mention the question of how to get it economically to the States from Germany – but it’s been percolating on and off in the back of my mind ever since seeing the thing on the streets on Basel. I don’t have to have one of these things, but as long I can get it… well, why not?

I know it also sounds pretty ‘pound foolish’ too, but it’s not as if I really have an obligation to save up for future generations at this point. Your family was so careful to do so that they really weren’t able to truly enjoy what they had; you admitted as much yourself numerous times. Granted, you were fully intending to get maximal appreciation out of the legacy they left, but you ran out of time far too soon. So this leaves me dealing with the question of whether it’s more churlish to spend money that once belonged to other people (and was meant for other people, like yourself), or to not spend it, and get the same benefit out of it as your parents and their parents – which is to say, rather little. So, I’ve chosen to learn from your forbearers’ mistakes, and enjoy what I’ve been given. Hope you don’t mind too much.

And with that being said, honey, continue to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.