A text message late last Tuesday informed me that my little car had been repaired and was ready to be picked up from the VW mechanics. Rather than face evening rush hour traffic I responded that I would be by in the morning to pick it up. So early Wednesday morning, I hopped on the condo shuttle to the subway station and took the train four stops north, then walked 15 minutes west from the station to retrieve the car. I had dropped it off the Thursday before. I had told them to take their time, that getting the car back was not critical for us, most people are screaming at them that they need the car back today. It is a second car, and we don't drive much, so it really was not a rush.
Before pulling out into traffic, I stopped and put the top down. Suddenly I was reminded why I bought that car. Why I pay the cost of keeping it. I only drive the car about 1,500 miles a year, I have driven it over 60 miles in the first 4 days, almost all of them with the top down. It is small and easy to drive. And when I put the top down, my smile comes up. I find myself falling in love again.
To be sure, keeping a second car is a luxury. We really don't need it, and I have to pay tax and insurance on it, and then there are repairs, fixing the top was over $1,000, and there were other repairs deemed critical. But it brings me joy.
Is anything that brings joy into our life, really a luxury? Is love a luxury?
