Accelerating the Lifestyle Creep

OUR SHINY OBJECT ADDICTION

I’d always considered my car a “beater,” one that would get replaced once I started my first adult job as a psychiatrist.  Known for its reliability, my 2013 silver Camry journeyed with me through medical school, braved the seasons in residency, and was still running fairly smoothly 12 years later.

After a decade of cross-country travels, my car’s AC was now officially defunct upon moving back to California.  And in the sweltering heat of summer?  No thanks. Driving through SoCal with windows down meant inhalation of oppressive amounts of smog.  I looked into remedying this issue, but quickly found it was a problem beyond just low refrigerant.  It was actually an underlying issue with the compressor which apparently would be a very costly fix, possibly in the thousands of dollars.

For many medical residents, upon transitioning to attendinghood, an upgrade to their car is often the first big purchase.  Looking around at my friends in various professions, they all had much nicer cars: Mercedes, BMWs, and Teslas.  I was goaded on by friends and family to give in to lifestyle inflation.  After all, with an attending paycheck, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally upgrade my car. 

My car seemingly had no other redeeming qualities when compared to a more modern vehicle: lackluster comfort, no back-up camera, gas guzzling, and a spotty bluetooth connection.  And though completely unnecessary, a parallel parking feature was highly alluring.  The commutes I was making for work between LA county and Orange County in addition to grocery shopping and going out would make the upgrade worth it, right?

It didn’t take much number crunching before I was decidedly against a luxury vehicle.  I could not stomach, nor afford, such an upgrade after committing to living in a nicer apartment.  At best, the payments would have me living paycheck to paycheck.  After some consideration, an upgraded Camry sounded like a pretty good trade off: I could get modernized updates to my car while still driving a make and model known for its reliability and cost effectiveness. 

All I had to do was purchase a model just one or two years old and it would be at an even steeper discount than MSRP.  This could be a car that would last me until I achieved enough financial stability to really upgrade into a luxury vehicle.  But I never pulled the trigger.

I was visiting my parents one day when my father suggested that I just drive my brother’s old Camry instead if I really needed AC.  Yes, there is a second Camry to this story: a beaten up 2012 Camry, with downgrades in virtually every department, except the functional AC.  This Camry lives at my parents’ place, generally unused. 

A new solution presented itself: I could drive my own Camry in the cooler seasons, then trade it in to my parents for my brother’s 2012 Camry during the hotter months.  This had the benefit of spreading wear and tear along with mileage between two used cars.  In the end, they could both get me from point A to point B without hassle.

After some thought, the decision was clear to me.  Buying a new car, even if it is something cheaper like the Camry, meant higher car insurance costs, higher monthly car payments, and coordinating charging ports for an EV (my current and potentially future apartments do not have easy access).  It also did not make sense to pay for something that I wasn’t wholeheartedly invested in; I did not want to “settle” on such an expensive purchase.  I’d rather wait a little longer until I can comfortably afford a nicer vehicle with even better technological upgrades. 

I could find other ways to be environmentally conscious if I could not upgrade to an EV now.  Similarly, I could be more planful in scheduling for gas refills.  Every downside, every complaint, and every problem I identified in my car(s) were either perceived or easily solved.

As of writing this article, I still drive the two dinky Camries.  In retrospect, the decision was fairly easy for me, especially once a sensible solution presented itself.  This is partly because I am not much into cars.  But this is largely due to greater goals I have for myself; for example, a home which represents and serves many more purposes than a car. 

Spending an unnecessary and exorbitant amount of money on an object with a singular purpose did not make logical sense to me.  What additional value, tangible or intangible, would a car add to my life?  Significant upgrades in safety features or comfort would be the only considerations, but this meant something out of my current affordability.  For some, there are aesthetic and voyeuristic dimensions of car ownership, but this often involves borrowing from their financial futures, and not a trade I’d make.

It would have been nice to treat myself to something grand.  Really nice.  But, knowing myself, I would have been very enthused with such a purchase for perhaps the first few weeks, maybe months.  But as with all material purchases, I find myself quickly wanting the next shiny upgrade–a slippery slope that is all too familiar with newly minted attending physicians. 

Though there are inconveniences and mild annoyances with my current car situation, I know that the luster that comes with a new purchase would quickly tarnish.  To borrow so heavily from my future self meant delays in achieving more important goals–financial security, freedom, and flexibility.

XOXO,

Howard & Peter