Analog Joy: Rediscovering Life Through My BMW E36

It was tough getting out of bed. A long run the day before and a night out for a cousin's birthday had me exhausted. A reminder that I am no longer a youth.

But sometimes I need to drive...to be outside. A four-wheel escape to an unfamiliar environment, if you will.

The idea of a drive got me out of bed. And it wasn’t for anything special; simply errands and coffee.

Can you imagine what it’d be like to do this in 1998? It was a year insignificant to most, but I was only 8 years old then. And it was the year my mom passed. I mention that because…well, I’m not sure. Maybe because it serves as a reminder that our existence is temporary and if I didn’t go for a drive today, I might not be here to go for a drive tomorrow. Morbid, but a fact of life.

So, I went for the drive.

My E36 M3 (coupe, titanium silver) cost an equivalent of $77,969 in today’s dollars brand new. A tech-industry middle manager or mid-life crisis retiree perhaps did these same errands in the late '90s.

I didn’t know the original owner, but I knew the two owners after them. It's hard to believe I’m close to ticking four years of ownership.

Time flies when you’re having fun (and doing lots of preventative maintenance).

And now there’s me. A 32-year-old enjoying this hunk of metal 24 years after it rolled off the assembly line in the Regensburg factory near Munich.

I joke about this being a shitbox, which it is (because I say so), but if a car could once be relied upon (because it was new), what’s the limiting factor in making it always reliable, and always like new? The owner, right?

I know this is a tangent. But I often think about when people complain that old cars are unreliable (which they certainly can be). But the blame is never put on the owner for why it isn’t reliable. Because when it left the factory long ago, it was reliable (at least somewhat).

The point being that old cars can last forever and not leave you stranded...if you take care of them. And in that sense, it’s a metaphor for many things in life.

And maybe life itself.

Which brings me to today.

And how the idea of a drive got me out of bed.

It wasn’t the errands that got me out of bed. Driving any car in the Santa Cruz mountains is certainly fun. But it was a drive in my car that got me out of bed. It’s a part of me now. The driving position fits like a glove, and the number of miles I've accrued behind the wheel makes me feel like I know the dang thing as well as an old friend.

...something about the "thing" and the "journey" being more important than the "destination". Sounds like another metaphor for life. Maybe.

All this to say, care for old things and they’ll care for you.

But also, go for the drive. Take the car.

You never know when your last row through the gears will be.