That Was Then, This Is Now

Season 6, #1: Back when Nightwalking was also night driving

YOU CAN’T KNOW WHERE you are until you understand where you’ve been. Conversely, you can’t know where you’ve been until you understand where you are.

It works both ways, right?

Here’s my shot at a—hopefully—compelling argument for that.

As mentioned in this post, I handed off “the coffin” (aka the foot locker) last month to middle nephew and shed some tears. I was sad because just having that hunk of history around meant I was still the young man I was when I first received it from my late father and maternal grandfather.

The fact is the foot locker is just a container. What’s in it is what really matters. THEN I had to deal with its contents, stacked on my kitchen counter. That lead to the second part of my triad: Nightwalking.

Daytalking, Nightwalking, Stargazing. Pretty much in that order.

Okay, okay, this is weird stuff I’m doling out, so I hope you’ll hang in there. A quick recap: Daytalking is basically anything relational: hanging with a friend or relative, a smile from a stranger, a call from someone who wants to catch up, a lunch date—anything that takes you out of yourself via another human being. Skipping ahead, Stargazing (which we covered in Season 5 just passed) is about curiosity and wonder‚ something that becomes a hobby or engaging activity for you (could be with other people, sure), anything absorbing. For me it’s writing, reading, listening to music, and sometimes cooking.

Middle kid in the trilogy is Nightwalking. It’s tough to get words out of Nightwalking since it’s mostly nonverbal. It needs coaxing. It has to feel all its feels.

When Daytalking ends, Nightwalking begins (photo by StoryShed Media).

About a month ago, in the middle of Stargazing Season 5, I hit upon an idea to bring Nightwalking more to the forefront. I’d let it talk about what it was and then frame it with how things are now. Nightwalking of course hated that idea (as I assumed it would) but I responded with, “Look, challenge yourself a little. What did you once value? Where is it now? Why isn’t it part of your walk any more? Can Daytalking and Stargazing help you?”

So I ran to get pen and paper and sketched out the complete four episodes of Season 6 of Nightwalking:

1. Cars/Transportation

2. Movies/Music

3. Home/Family

4. Friends/Lovers

I started with cars because, well, I no longer own one—haven’t since 2015. It’s an easy story to tell so the forthcoming newsletters will circle around “what it was” and “where it is now,” and wrap up to see where you—as a valued StoryShed subscriber—are experiencing that, too.

That’s the best way to make Nightwalking less of a grump than it already is.

And maybe have some fun, too.

That Was Then: Owning a Car

WHAT IS A CAR to you? Is it an extension of your body, maybe how you perceive your personality? A symbol of status or pride? A utility belt for family transport?

A magic carpet ride?

Check out this sweet ride parked just outside (photo by StoryShed Media).

As a freshly minted teenager with a driving permit, I was denied owning my own vehicle because my parents at the time didn’t think I was ready. Then one day in 1979 they went on vacation and I went out car shopping (pretty much tells you all you need to know about how I handle rejection).

At a shady University Avenue used car dealer, I bought a 1971 Datsun 310 that was previously owned by what must’ve been a spliff-suckin’ Fred Flintstone since there were holes in the floorboards (you know, for your feet to use Flintstone-style) and pot seeds in what was left of those floorboards. I probably collared a friend to help drive the pathetic piece of motorized shit back home, but I do recall it was a failed purchase. Cheap is cheap. Life lesson duly learned.

When the ’rents returned, there was hell to pay. But I had a quick response at the ready: “Hey Dad, I can’t drive Mom’s 1973 Dodge Dart around anymore. It’s EMBARRASSING.”

So here’s what happened.

Dad found an end run on this problem by recognizing my need for speed but sent my Mom to help co-sign a loan (and use my part-time job paycheck to cough up the money for it) on a newer Datsun by trading in the 310 for a sporty blue GX Coupe that included an AM/FM cassette deck, new tires, and sunroof.

I’ve never forgotten that car. She was my first automotive love.

I brought “her” music and she sang with me as we rounded corners on back-country roads. We dreamed together: I wrote stories for her while she repaid me with vistas and long, twisty highways and hangs with high school buddies. It was love, love, love.

How our love ended, I can’t recall. But the second vehicle I bought, once I’d landed a full-time job, was a Mitsubishi “Mighty Max” pickup truck. Why a pickup truck? It was sporty yet compact. I thought I’d be moving out of the family home soon, getting my own apartment closer to the new job. I’d need a pickup truck! All I recall about it was my grandfather couldn’t pronounce “Mitsubishi” and it, too, went away when I bought that practical of all practical cars—a Saturn. Saturn had their moment, and I was down with it, until it became nothing but a plastic-encased rattle trap that I only wanted to escape from.

My last car was a silver 2002 VW Jetta—its only owner had been the dealer where I bought it. It came in strong and went out a complete disaster: massive electrical repairs, “check engine light” constantly on—a real regret machine.

But I still think of that Datsun GX Coupe.

Powerful visions came to me while driving that car.

This Is Now: Carless in Minneapolis

I SOLD THE JETTA in 2015 and went for about a month thinking I was the worst and dumbest human in the history of the world.

Why did I sell my car? Well, I was underemployed and living in the city and realized I could travel cheaper by public transit than having an expensive hunk of metal hulking mere feet from wherever I was living. It was a creepy time, not having a car. I felt vulnerable. I didn’t know who I was.

And then something weirdly wonderful happened.

It got better. Way better.

I found resources for renting cars and using public transportation. And I found self-worth in not adding to the toxic automotive culture that is and has been at the core of American society. I’m no longer part of that, so I started to own the pride. My new employer provided a transportation benefit and I loaded up bus passes so I never have to worry about traveling anywhere in the Twin Cities. It comes down to planning and timing and, well, isn’t that what life is about anyway, at least if you’re prudent?

My late father Paul’s model of the actual VW bus he and Mom used for camping and road trips (photo by StoryShed Media). Dad loved that thing.

Where I live now is a block away from a major Minneapolis transit hub, so I’ve got a lot of options. There’s also a cheap electric car rental connected with public transit that I use, as well as other car rental options. I don’t miss the constant “Check Engine” light, licenses or tabs, parking fees or fines, stolen property (or stolen cars), car insurance, accidents, stress from driving … hey, I am way happier not owning a car.

What do I miss?

• I miss my daydreaming sweet rides in that Datsun GX Coupe—music blasting, sunroof cranked open, wind in my hair.

• I miss road trips whenever I feel like taking off for the weekend.

• I miss grabbing a buddy and going for a ride, somewhere for a bite and back home again.

Circling back to the opening question, I don’t regret owning cars because when I learned to drive, I practiced a skill that comes in useful should I need to drive somewhere.

But do I need to own a car?

Maybe you do, but I’ve discovered being car-free is where I’m at.

That was then, this is now.

When Was Your Then, and What Is Your Now?

Nightwalking doesn’t talk much, but when it does it gets solemn about night-driving past lonely summer streetlights and going on distant road trips. Then it nods to Stargazing to fill in the blanks about what it’s feeling.

Stargazing nods back and now asks you:

• What do you do for transportation now?

• How many cars have you owned in your life?

• Have you ever thought of other modes of transportation, like biking, ride-sharing, or apps like Uber or Lyft?

• How has physical location impacted your need to own a car?

• What are the social and relational aspects of owning a car? Do you feel lonely driving? Less lonely? Do you include other people when you’re traveling?

Extra texture and notes

Addendum: An “Oracle” penny found last week with the year 1986 stamped on it revealed for Tuesday, September 2, 1986, this startling find:

I wandered up to Wayzata Mitsubishi and talked to a salesman there named Barry Wing, an older gentleman (about 40s-50s) from Mound. I eventually test-drove and bought a ’86 Mitsubishi Mighty Max Sport Pickup with topper and rustproofing for $5,900. It’s a sporty little 5-speed truck—2-liter engine with cloth interior and an AM/FM factory radio.

Woody Guthrie | “Riding in My Car”

Queen |“I’m In Love With My Car”