State of Place

You’re outwardly concerned about saving as much money as possible for travel.

So what happens when, en route to your Labor Day Weekend bonanza, your car starts giving a death rattle and limps the last 50 miles? When it appears that this might be the point at which an outside force places your lifestyle in greater alignment with your aspirations, and divests you of your cash devouring automobile?

My guess is that lots of travelers, maybe you included, wouldn’t want to give up their wheels. Resistance would precede buses and bicycles.

I’m painfully aware that a tank of gas equals a week’s room with bed, shower, and red vinyl couch in Kathmandu. But because I grew up next to a car collector and rally racer, used to deliver pizzas, and am American enough to believe in the freedoms bestowed by the auto, I had a particularly tough time this Labor Day weekend as I tried not to worry about losing my car. It looked like curtains.

Another post might provide the details, but here’s the quick story. The ugly clanking appeared around 7 p.m. on Friday, 3 hours into the journey. After a highway shoulder evaluation, transmission fluid top-off at the first gas station, and subsequent fingers-crossed to the destination, I parked it.  Joined the country in a long workless weekend and got up at 6 a.m. today to visit the Volkswagen specialist.

The new transmission is going in tomorrow. For the price of a plane ticket to Bangkok.

There are plenty of things I’m willing to trade for long-term travel. But for now, short-term, spontaneous travel isn’t on the list.

Photo of Thai bus driver by Ronn Aldamann

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