With The Husband in a garage somewhere on the outskirts of the metro area awaiting a new distributor, my mum’s boyfriend lent me his other car for a few days. It was a c. 1985 Toyota, bought for $900. This car, he says, he’s going to put some money into. A couple of grand to fix the transmission and do some other repairs. After half and hour’s drive to my place, I know it has at least the following things wrong with it:

dodgy transmission
no handbrake
dying muffler
massive cigarette damage to the interior
no immobiliser
dodgy central locking
wheels out of alignment
steering wheel not set right
brakes not set right

And that’s not including the rust. Now, speaking of cars, the very husband that The Husband is named after has just bought a new car. A ‘97 Nissan. It is beautiful, smooth and fast, and has a nifty heads-up speedo display. The wife is going to learn to drive in it.

See, what strikes me is how things are going life-wise. That a couple of my friends, not much older than me, can invest in a car like that. A car that just screams ’stability’. Stability and abundance and maybe thinking about having children. While I’m driving a heap of crap that isn’t even mine. And it’s not really a money issue. I could afford a car like that without taking out a loan if I wanted to, it’s just that there would be no point. I’m still at the stage where the bus is cool and I’ll ride my bike if it’s close enough. It’s more of a change of life issue. These people are getting into the realm of real adult life stuff, like:

decent cars
consumer items
fancy plates and glasses
places to live where the people all have shirts on
pianos
debt
maybe children
et cetera

Let me put it like this. When I was a kid, I could see how the adults were and it looked like they had it made. They didn’t seem to have to worry about money, or where they were going to live in six month’s time, or what they were doing with their lives. They had stability, and it was real, even if a bit more tenous than I had thought. Now I can see my friends getting it too, and it makes me feel funny because I’m still in my casual, commitment-free student lifestyle. Feels like… well, it would feel a lot better if I were so much happier than them, because then I could laugh at them and feel good about my choices. It’s not that simple, though, is it?

I think I did right. Maybe I did what I had to do, and that’s much the same. And I don’t think I’ll be driving around in a car like the crap Toyota when I’m my mum’s boyfriend’s age, even if I’m not headed for a Nissan yet, either. But when I think of the nice carpet and the big 1980s stereo speakers and the colour TVs of my parents and aunts and uncles, I wish I had that life. I wish I finally had answers to those annoying questions:

Are they going to kick me out of my apartment?
Will I have enough to pay for new clothes?
Will this degree actually get me a job?
Will I even like the job anyway after a year?
Can I keep typing this thesis, this short story, this email, this blog post without my forearms cramping up into mutant claws?
Will my mutant claws be enough to get me steady part-time work as a sideshow freak?

Oh well.