Why's the Bike Still Cooler???

This essay has been found to be depressing... proceed with caution.

Sarah and I just bought a car. God help us we just bought a car. It's official as of this afternoon as I wrote the $3500 down payment and I signed-off on the mountain of insurance charges and financing payments. I have not yet ever bought something of such value, and for the next five years or so we will be paying for the car.

The process of shopping for the car was a thing of dread for me in the years leading up to the purchase. Quite frankly, car salesmen, in the form they appear on the lot, are not exactly the type of people you want to hang out with. Even worse, the type of person that otherwise respectable men become on a car lot when they are wheelin' and dealin' over a vehicle is not exactly reminiscent of a trustworthy friend.

As God is my witness, the rate at which I have lied (either directly or in suggestion) has grossly increased over the last few days. I've pretended to be poorer than I am, I've exhibited a cold and disinterested face when I was really excited, I've lied to a salesman about how much I paid for my new car at the other lot, I've pretended to think when I really had my mind made up, etc...., etc...., etc. All in the name of getting a better deal.

Then, in the midst of the argument, I began to feel passionate about a car. I was enamored with the shiny paint, the smooth ride, the gas mileage and temperature display, and the roof rack. Man it was exciting. For some reason, part of me just wanted the car no matter what I paid for it. It was as if something in me thought that my life would be better with the car being mine. The years of idealistic talk about owning cheap and junky things so that I could live in passionate exploration of the world faded. Now the car could replace the passion.

Last night, while lying in bed attempting to sleep, I felt like a different person... and not a good kind of different person. I suppose that many people would regard me as being stronger because of the recent hard bargains I had driven, but I felt a bit slimier. I felt cliché. I was obsessing over a stupid car. I was becoming impolite and a bit dishonest to get it cheap. Dang it, I was normal American.

I fully realize that I am making a bigger deal of this than it is. I guess better men than me wheel and deal over cars and houses every day. Little lies here... little lies there. It's kind of the name of the game unless you are looking to get ripped off. And I am also sure that better men than me also feel that pesky feeling that their new house or car will make their lives better.

As I sat stewing over my feelings of unscrupulousness and materialism, I couldn't help but feel as though now I had given-in to the modern American way and taken a big step away from the world of my simple-lived climbing, exploring, and ministering heroes. Now I would be driving a nice, plush, and sleek Subaru Outback while slowly creeping in the direction of needing more and more shiny, plush, and “gadgety” things to pad me from the natural world. Next would be a nice pickup and a few snowmobiles, then a boat, and after than a nice home in the suburbs with a two-car garage and a Craftsman lawnmower. After that would come the fine dog and a couple of kids who I would raise into brats through well-placed spoiling. I would never return to New Zealand... that trip would have become a snowmobile. I would never go to Europe and tour the country side or climb in the Alps... that trip would have become the boat. I would never get to live in a village in a third world country for even a week... that trip would be exchanged for house payments. And I would never bike across a country or climb a Big Wall... those dreams would be gone when I became a father and lost the will to lead my kids by living.

That's when I had a bit of an epiphany. First, the heart and abilities given to me by God coupled with my commitment to my dreams are what determines the course of my future, not the car I drive. Second, I have a bad habit of grouping and judging people, particularly middle-class and higher Americans who are not active. To make myself feel special, I like to throw them all into a group and assume that they've surrendered their lives to materialism. Like a bully, my low view of others makes me feel better... like I mean something more to the world... sometimes it's called narcissism. But my grouping only hurts me. Thinking that the slide to materialism and apathy is the standard, I will accidentally make it a reality for myself.

I'm glad I have a fancy-looking car. Now, while driving down the road, I can look just like the people I have judged. Now other people like me can judge me and make up stories about how I am lazy, unadventurous, and materialistic. And as I drive, I can know that I am still different than all of them, just like most of them are different than all of them. I want to be special and extraordinary... just like them, because I am one of them.

The realty check is happening. I needed a new car and I got one. Now I am making payments and am faced with a more realistic perspective on what it is like to pursue my dreams. Car payments have to happen. Can I make going back to New Zealand happen? Can I make cycling across a country happen? Can I make a big wall climb happen?

Oddly enough, the people I like to judge and group have done some amazing things. Some have climbed big walls. Some have cycled across ten countries. Some have adopted and raised children from villages of third world countries. Some have lived those villages. Some have been war heroes. Some are great authors. And almost all of them have told little lies to a car dealer and have maybe even been so evil as to really want a snowmobile or a boat.

My opinion is that everyone has a remarkable story that they can live. Some of the people I judge have not lived it and are the stereotype I give them. Many people, at least to some degree, are not. I am not remarkable, and I think the slimy feeling I felt was at least partly me being reminded in large scale that I can be materialistic and greedy too. The reality, unfortunately, is that materialism and greed are story stoppers. Wanting a car or a house and then getting it has never made a storyline for a movie. Probably because the God given spirit inside most people realizes that materialism is uninspiring and lame. The best movies are love stories or adventures.

I think that one of the reasons for the success of the people who have lived their God-given stories is that they have seen the non-materialistic and life-loving heart within them. I found mine again today. As I sat eating breakfast this morning, I was thinking for a moment about how excited I was to be getting a fancy new car. Immediately I felt my heart plummet. Fifteen years from now, my fancy new Subaru Outback may be sitting in a junkyard with a wheel missing and half of its engine in another car somewhere. I will be driving a new fancy car. Then that one will end up in a junkyard. Then I will be in another. The process will continue. A series of fancy cars will carry me my whole life. Then I will die... nuts, no more cars.

As I was thinking, I saw my bike next to me. I cross examined my heart. I thought of all of the fun and glorious battles I have had fighting up hills, through the sleet, and through the wind on my bike. I couldn't wait for more. I love that bike, and strangely and in that moment (as well as many others), it meant more to me than the car. The car was $14,995 and the bike was $699. But the bike was worth more... because of what it did to my spirit. Value to my heart is not in dollars and cents, but it memories and possibilities. God, please help me keep it there.

This process of buying a car has taken me from my highly idealistic and judgmental view of the world and moved me forward. Yes, I'm sure I'm still idealistic and judgmental, but now I have seen a new perspective. Only to a materialist does a fancy car mean someone is a materialist. When I judge other people for not living as they should, I am stopping my own story. But in a world where a bike can be worth more than a hot new car, stories tend to happen because our God-given spirit within is running the show. Cars and bikes are just a means by which to have an adventure. They are tools through our lives that allow our souls to love and inspire the spirits of others. Cars and bikes shouldn't make us happy, yet for some reason, mine still do.