At the start of this year, my girlfriend decided to sell her old dunga’.
It was a good decision. Her car was a big, old, fat 2.6L sedan with blind spots the size of a bouncy castle, and the only thing it loved more than chewing through vast quantities of petrol was being as difficult as possible to wedge into parallel parks.
‘Good news!’ she said to me, one day.
‘I sold my car for three thousand dollars!’
‘That’s fantastic! I replied. And so, what are you thinking now?
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At the start of this year, my girlfriend decided to sell her old dunga’.
It was a good decision. Her car was a big, old, fat 2.6L sedan with blind spots the size of a bouncy castle, and the only thing it loved more than chewing through vast quantities of petrol was being as difficult as possible to wedge into parallel parks.
‘Good news!’ she said to me, one day.
‘I sold my car for three thousand dollars!’
‘That’s fantastic! I replied. And so, what are you thinking now?
‘Well, I’ve got your car,’ she said.
….
I don’t think I truly appreciated New Zealand’s lagging mathematics achievement until I noted the laxness of my girlfriend’s attitude to the situation.
‘I can give you the three thousand if you really want it,’ said my girlfriend.
‘But my car’s worth ten thousand dollars.’ I said.
Welcome to love.
The reason I’m telling you this is not actually anything to do with cars. It’s about what I decided to do next. Because, faced with a carless future, I did nothing.
Three months ago, my girlfriend and I decided to become a one-car couple.
Between us, living in two different houses, in different suburbs, with her son and various jobs to balance, we decided to see if we could get by with just the one vehicle.
The theory was pretty simple. Whenever I could, I would ride my bike. She would walk more and use public transport. Both of us would have to be a bit thoughtful about our requirements in advance. I thought of it as Corolla coordination, as we tried to plan out our weeks as best we could.
If it was raining, or we had stuff to carry, or we were running late for an important meeting, we wouldn’t guilt ourselves about spending money on Ubers. I figured whatever we spent on Ubers would be more than covered by our savings on a new car, insurance, and petrol.
Today is April 1st, three months into 2023. Three months since we made the switch.
The thing that has surprised me most is how easy the whole thing has been.
Now, I get it. We’re not on a farm. We’re not running separate glazing businesses. We don’t have eight kids. And we live in a city. But we do have some complications. We are balancing a lot. And anyone who’s paid attention to the news will know there’s been a fair bit of rain in the upper North Island this year.
Still, if I was to break it down, I’d say that 90% of my journeys have been by bike. The only slight issue I’ve had was an incident where I had to excuse myself from a book launch party after zipping across Auckland on a particularly humid evening, only to find myself with sweat literally dripping onto some of the other guests.
On a few occasions, my girlfriend and I have been going to the same event. With our Corolla coordination, she’ll take the car and I’ll take the bike, and I’ll beat her there through the rush hour traffic.
And as for Ubers and public transport? I’ve spent about $170 in three months. That’s a whole lot less than a car, insurance, and running costs would’ve set me back over the same period.
I know this setup won’t suit everyone. I’m not suggesting it will. But New Zealand has one of the highest car-ownership rates in the world. And I reckon I’m not the only one who might be surprised at how easy it is to downsize.
Call it Corolla Coordination. Or Mitsubishi Marshalling. Or Hilux Harmonising. Outlander Ordering.
Maybe if you’re getting rid of an old dunga, set yourself a challenge, too. Sure, it’s handy to have one car. But ask yourself, do you really need two?
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