The Beach Car

An Ode

I am not a car person. I know my friends’ cars by their color not their makes. I’ve had only a couple of new cars in my life, including the “newest,” above, pictured on the day I drove it off the lot. It’s a 2012 Honda Insight, which I still have, and perhaps I chose it because of its name (a writer’s dream!) as well as its environmental virtues. It’s a hybrid, with excellent gas mileage, but the pickup is sluggish. It has a fabulous defroster, clearing the windshield in three seconds flat. It doesn’t have any interior mirrors, a great flaw. The interior of a car matters more than the exterior to me and almost as much as its performance.

Anyway, I am not emotional (or knowledgeable) about cars.

Then I acquired the beach car.

It was once my mother’s car, a 2007 Toyota RAV 4, and at some point, I noticed that she was paying a a huge amount of insurance on it—not surprising, as she was then ninety-five with a dubious driving record, including a one-car accident involving a tree. She was not driving any longer, so it made sense for her to transfer the car to my name. Insurance rates plummeted, and the car was technically mine.

When we visited our family vacation home, I began to drive it around, mainly to the dump, and now it’s the vehicle I drive the most when I’m here. In this town of BMWs, Audis, and Teslas, it’s not a glamorous car. And maybe that’s one reason I like it. It’s modest. Self-effacing. I do not like to flaunt a brand, in clothing or in cars.

For its age (sixteen!), the beach car’s in good shape, with just a single black crumple in the back bumper and no other body damage. Because it’s so old, I don’t worry about it.  We can get into it with sandy feet; I’m not concerned if it gets scratched by a bush.

The beach stickers go back many years, permitting us to swim in the surf at Sagg Main Beach. The back of the RAV 4 allows for all manner of beach paraphernalia: chairs, an umbrella, towels, a boogie board.

It's our vacation vehicle, our fun car, and it stays at the house by the beach, a boon to those who arrive without wheels.

Amazingly, it has excellent pickup, and I exult in how fast it goes fast.  Compared to the Honda Insight, it’s a Ferrari. This shows once again how one appreciates something more after deprivation Acceleration! I’d forgotten the rush.  

I climb inside. I’m up high. I don’t know if I can really see more in the beach car than in the Insight, but it sure seems like I do. I feel like the Colossus of Roads! I am happy in my seat before I even turn the key. When we are together, my husband usually drives, but when we are out here, I drive the beach car. I am usually barefoot, and we are in no hurry. traveling through woods and vineyards and cornfields.    

As an environmentalist, I’ve decided that my next car will be an electric vehicle, probably a Mustang. The practical question is: should I wait until it gets the universal plug, allowing it to charge at Tesla stations, or should I take advantage of the rebates (and large inventory) offered this year?

The Mustang will signal my environmental virtue. It’s also a flashy car, especially for a driver like me. (I’ve had one speeding ticket in my entire life, for going 42 in a 30 m.p.h. zone.) The new Mustang is a beautiful thing: from time to time, I go to the website and gaze at the photos.

Yet it cannot give me the carefree pleasures of the old beach car!