Cal Gives Up the Car
Mobility Options Are Workable
Reframing Limitations (No. 9)
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Listen to Cal’s story as you read it (below).
It was time to do without a car.
Cal, a retired mechanical engineer, knew that instinctively, but he needed Doc Matthews to confirm it. More importantly, he needed his son, Ben, to finally say something about him not driving.
“Yeah, Dad, after your last eye checkup, I doubt you could pass the eye exam at the DMV,” Ben had said.
Cal tried to find a bright spot in a situation he always knew was coming but dreaded — especially after his wife, Ellen, died, and he moved into Green Meadows, a new assisted living facility near the University of Minnesota campus in Southeast Minneapolis.
“I never wanted to be an old man driving an old car that was in poor shape and dangerous to drive,” Cal told Ben with a smile. “I remember Ken thought he had the best car on the road before he died, but it was a 20-year-old Olds and not in good shape.”
Ben chuckled. “You’re right, Dad,” he agreed. “And used cars are in short supply right now. You should get good money for your Honda. You bought that in 2017, right? How many miles have you got on it?”
“About 20,000,” Cal replied with one long puff on his pipe.
“Really! You and Mom sure didn’t drive much.”
That was true — mostly doctor visits, trips to the grocery store, and hikes in the nearby State Park, now that he and Ellen no longer drove to Florida each year as snowbirds, Cal thought.
Still, he dreaded the feeling of not having a car. It’s so handy to jump in the car to go someplace when you need to or feel like it, especially in retirement, he told himself. He remembered the times he and Ellen would drive to the winery near Hastings on lazy Sunday afternoons, sit on the hillside, listen to the live music, and sip wine, or go downtown to a Twins baseball game.
Not having a car was another step in becoming dependent on others, a feeling (deep down) Cal hated. He tried to repress it, but it always seemed to be popping up lately.
“To get around, you need a car,” Cal explained. “I don’t want to depend on others to get around.”
“I can understand that,” Ben slowly responded. “Not having wheels is a big adjustment. Remember when I couldn’t wait to get my driver’s license when I was 16?”
“You had the ‘chopper’ bike — the coolest thing. I thought then that fancy bike would delay your wish for a car. But, I was wrong ...”
“I just read somewhere that kids getting out of college aren’t rushing out to buy cars,” Ben quietly observed. “These days they want to live and work downtown. They don’t want to be tied down with a mortgage or a car they really can’t afford right now. They bicycle to work, walk, use Uber or rideshare or take the light rail. Have you ever taken the light rail, Dad? There’s a station just a block from your place, and you can now reach your doctors and dentist — and a ballgame — by light rail ...”
“No, too dangerous,” Cal pointed out. “I’ve watched those trains jerk and stop, jerk and stop ...”
“But no steps — smooth sailing from the street sidewalks into the train,” Ben explained, dashing his right hand through the air. “I know a guy who has a mobility scooter, and he uses the light rail all the time to get to work. He lost a leg in Iraq. He can walk but finds it easier to use his scooter for long distances. And, it frees up their car for his wife to go to work. He calls his scooter their second car.”
Cal shook his head incredulously. “A scooter can’t replace a car ...”
“I was surprised when I saw his scooter,” Ben continued, trying to visualize the vehicle once again. “It’s got four wheels with suspension, taillights, a headlight and left and right turn signals. It can go up to nine miles an hour and 15 miles per charge. It reminds me of my chopper — with high handlebars. But, it’s much sleeker — really kind of sexy.”
“Not like my Honda Accord hybrid,” Cal added with a grin.
“I’ll give you that,” Ben allowed with a chuckle. “I’ll betcha there’s a Honda somewhere in that new mobility service Green Meadows is offering its residents. Five miles to your stop and five miles back—for free.”
It was then that Ben surprised Cal with an intriguing idea.
“How about we put your Honda through its paces before we let the next owner set hands on it and just you and I take it on a tour of Route 66 for as long as we’re having fun?” Ben offered. “After we get back, we can look at souped-up mobility scooters — and the other options, like your next chauffeur.”
It was a deal Cal could not refuse.
It was then that he recalled what Ann Landers once wrote:
"Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it."
Cal’s takeaway tip from his story: Know when to let go of things once cherished.
Here’s to mature-adult living!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
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I always thought white wall tires were sexy – at least on American-made cars.
When I got my new company car in 1990 (a Camry), I had the dealer switch the boring black tires which came with the car to white wall tires – at the amusement of the other senior staff members at work, all of whom ordered Chevys or Fords.
When I left my job in 1994, I bought the Camry (still with white wall tires) and drove it a couple of years before Pam and I found that we didn’t need it as a second car. So we gave it to our niece (still with white wall tires).
Our niece, of course, was more mod than we were, and the white walls soon disappeared – a detail easily fixed by turning the white-wall side of each tire inward.
Yes, white wall tires looked so fine, but Japan changed that, and I now admit that white walls were a pain to keep clean. Not essential but a tidbit (along with the biggies) I’ve learned to let go.
* When have you found a way to let go of what you once considered essential?