Smoke started trickling from the hood of my white ‘03 Cadillac CTS like a teenage boy trying to hide his Juul puffs in a movie theater.
I did my best to ignore it (like most of my problems). Until the trickle became a geyser.
It got to the point where I looked more like a train conductor than a Cadillac driver.
I reluctantly accepted defeat and pulled over.
Cars whizzed past me headed northbound on I 75 towards Woodstock, Georgia where my grandparents were waiting for me with a Persian feast on a Sunday afternoon.
It took a few minutes to remember how to pop the hood. Then I stared at the engine with laser focus as if I had an inkling as to what the problem was.
Praying some stroke of hidden automobile genius would strike me.
It didn’t.
So I called AAA and watched the overweight man tow my sole form of transportation off into the sunset. That was the last time I saw ol’ Caddy.
Fast forward two and half years and I’m still car-less.
The day I lost my car I also gained something unexpected — freedom. Freedom from the second biggest expense in most of our lives.
But I’m starting to feel that tinge of desire again like a pebble that just won’t get out of my shoe.
As I’m writing these lines from my porch in Austin, there is a sea ranging from clunkers to exotics in the parking lot.
And it makes me think, “Man, if only I had an exotic car (or a clunker for that matter), then I’d definitely be happy.”
No!
It’s a trap.
It won’t make you happy.
Thrilled?
Perhaps for a week or two.
But certainly not happy.
Something glaring seems to be missing from my neighbors faces as I watch them open their car doors in the morning — a smile.
They don’t look happy. In fact, many of them look quite miserable.
As if they’re thinking, “Man, if only I didn’t have this da** car, then I’d definitely be happy.”
The grass is always greener, right?
Possibly due to the pile of debt that’s loaded up in their trunk. Or maybe because they realize the lie they were sold at the car lot.
That something external could bring them lasting happiness.
We know this isn’t true.
Then why do we keep fooling ourselves into believing it?
This might sound crazy, but I think I’ve found the perfect solution.
I want a parakeet that knows one phrase, and one phrase alone: “It won’t make you happy!”
I’d place its cage in the middle of my apartment. So anytime I started browsing for the latest trinket, that I’m convinced will finally make me happy, it’d repeat those wise words: “It won’t make you happy!”
Everyone would benefit from one of these feathered friends.
It doesn’t matter what it is.
For me right now, it is a blacked out ‘23 Toyota Camry XSE fully loaded.
What is it for you?
Could be a new home, promotion at work, or even a better partner. Doesn’t matter. It won’t make you happy.
Why don’t we ever learn?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna order that parakeet so I can teach it those five crucial words. Hopefully that’ll be my last purchase for a while.
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How about this too shall pass?