Please excuse the gushy nature of this post, as I generally loathe gushing. Especially when it comes to objects. Especially when those objects come with a hefty price tag. And especially when they carry an eco-friendly badge that, when scrutinized, reveals a bit of a green-washed smirk.
But… it’s here. Our 2010 Volkswagen Jetta TDI (black exterior with black leather interior, touchscreen radio, seat warmers, alloy wheels, turbocharged clean diesel engine that qualifies for a $1300 alternative fuel tax credit) has come home. And it is the most wonderful, amazing, stupefying car ever.
What would Jesus drive? If the answer isn’t a 2010 Jetta TDI, I don’t know what is.
Did I mention that it’s manual transmission? How daring am I, buying a car that I can’t even drive? In preparation for the Jetta’s homecoming, Mr. P has been giving me stick-shift driving lessons on his Honda Civic. Miles of confusion, frustration, and some yelling (reminiscent of when he taught me how to ski, only no crashes) and finally I can drive around the neighborhood without stalling and dissolving into whimpers. Still, I have yet to actually drive the Jetta because its gearshift is different from the Civic’s (6 gears instead of 5), so Mr. P will have to give me more lessons on the Jetta. Which, honestly, he doesn’t seem eager to do. I think he has designs on my car.
It’s ironic that the Jetta’s homecoming falls on the same day that I lost one hour of my life during a disastrous morning commute when I spent literally 40 minutes in a tunnel on a disabled train. (I know I’m prone to exaggerating train delays, but this time, I’m being truthful). After the train was pushed into Porter Square station by another train, I squeezed onto the packed platform, and watched three jammed-full trains roll past. It was a nightmare. I used yogic breathing to refrain from punching someone.
So yes, I’m aware that my excitement over my shiny new car isn’t the most eco-conscious or civic-minded sentiment. But after a decade of being at the mercy of the MBTA, the thought of commuting with this beauty, with its reassuring purr and heated seats, feels like salvation.
And there it sits, gleaming in the driveway, promising freedom, independence, and an escape from the whims of public transit.
