Since boyhood, I've been into cars. They marked, for adolescent me, the freedom to go where I wished to go. And sure, yeah, I know, they're a terrible form of mass transportation. And even though car culture in America has faded, as the profit-hungry industry has persuaded us that we really want the big trucks and SUVs that pad their quarterly margins, I still have a thing for nice cars. They're powerful, they're fast, they're luxurious.
Being that I'm the pastor of a small church and the author of impossibly brilliant novels of such superlative genius that they don't actually find publishers, the vehicles that I desired from afar as a youth remain just as functionally distant as they ever did.
Only, well, there's renting.
For the past decade, I've scratched my vehicular itch through rentals. Camaros and Corvettes and Challengers, big trucks and Jeeps, Beemers and Benzes, two a year, every year.
My latest rental was a car I've admired for years: the Lucid Air. It's a big powerful luxurious sedan. It's electric, and is both one of the most efficient cars on the planet and, simultaneously, one of the fastest cars on the planet. The Lucid Air Sapphire has 1,234 horsepower, gets to 60 in under two seconds, and blows the doors off of Ferraris and Lamborghinis and McLarens...while also being really quite comfy and using less energy than my 300cc scooter.
I rented the Lucid Air Touring, which at just over 600 horse has half the power of the range-topping Sapphire. But it was still absurdly fast...three seconds flat to 60 ain't bad...and gorgeous. My car-rental fund meant I could afford it for exactly two days.
It was a remarkable car, one that impressed with sublime interior design, brilliant handling, and a rear seat that would put a limo to shame. I gave rides to friends and family. I delighted in the blinding acceleration, the taut handling, the seemingly ideal mix of comfort and power.
That said, the Lucid was not without blemish. The tech worked about 90 percent of the time, with reverse and surround cams going dark on the regular. The key fob (as I'd read) was prone to draining coin-cell batteries, as it did on the second day, leaving me briefly unable to get into the car. I had a backup CR2032 lying around, and that problem was solved. The cold (temps were in the 20s) meant that range dropped by a third, and I lost 20 miles of range overnight. Charging...well...the public charging stations were full, and a charge cable hadn't been provided with the rental. Range anxiety is a real thing.
That second day, I found myself with only fifty miles of range remaining in the afternoon. With no reliable way to charge, I elected to switch over to our trusty old Honda Accord for some errands, as it seemed the only way I could ensure I could get the Lucid back to the dropoff.
Stepping out of one of the objects of my automotive lusting into my reliable, ordinary, well-worn sedan was like sliding into an old shoe.
Everything was familiar. Everything was right where it needed to be. It was precisely what I needed, and very little more, and there was a satisfaction in that. I found, as I often do after snorting about in a fancy car for a bit, that the return to the day-to-day wasn't tinged with regret, any more than one laments coming back to the comforts of home, or reuniting with an old friend, or seeing the smile on your wife's face at the airport as she returns from a business trip.
Returning to the truth of my need? It is always a reminder that our consumerist appetites for more and more and more mislead us. Contentment comes, as the Teacher put it, when we learn to be satisfied with the stuff that is necessary.
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