Why I Drive a 20-Year-Old Volkswagen

Find out why trading in a sexy Porsche for a humble hatchback has been one of the best decisions of my life

Dear friends,

Welcome to another edition of Beyond Self Improvement! If you missed it, here’s last week’s article: From Trauma to Wholeness: Restoring Your Body's Wisdom.

In today’s essay, I tell the story of why I gave up the status of a Porsche for the understated freedom of an old Volkswagen. If you’re new, consider subscribing below to join our growing community and get the next essay direct to your inbox:

Camping before a gorgeous yet grueling 17-mile (27 km) day backpacking Steens Mountain.

Some people want the latest, most technologically advanced cars. Others prefer the timeless charm of older models.

I've journeyed through this spectrum, from an admirer of German engineering to an advocate for the simplicity and practicality of owning a 20-year-old car. This transformation wasn't overnight but a gradual realization, shaped by experiences that taught me the value of freedom over prestige, of practicality over appearance.

My fascination with cars started as a kid. While other kids were into sports and memorizing athlete stats, I studied car magazines. I knew car models, engines, and stats like the back of my hand. My folks are from California, and if you know anything about Californians, they love their cars.

My dad got into German cars while stationed in Germany after WWII. He bought a 1955 VW Beetle and had it shipped back to the States, so it's no surprise I liked German cars, too. Like many boys, I idolized the Porsche 911, a symbol of success and style. Yet, life has a way of steering dreams onto unexpected paths.

My journey from wanting a Porsche to finding contentment in a humble Volkswagen Golf TDI is a testament to the lessons learned on the road less traveled.

The Porsche 944: A Symbol of Aspiration and Anxiety

Purchasing a used Porsche 944 was a milestone for me, realizing a childhood dream. Charcoal grey with a burgundy leather interior, its aesthetics were matched only by its performance. The handling was unlike anything I'd experienced, turning everyday driving into an adventure.

In this car, dressed in my banking profession's suit and tie uniform, I felt the transformative power of material success. In those moments, I was not just a banker but someone important, a man who had arrived.

But owning that car wasn’t all great. I constantly worried about dings, scratches, and the cost of repairs. And then there were the guys who'd pull up next to me, wanting to race or the looks people gave me, not the good kind.

I didn't like the attention and didn’t want to race. I just wanted to enjoy my car.

A Winter's Lesson

The most poignant lesson came one winter night in Minnesota.

After an evening of indulging in drinks and playing pool with coworkers, I drove home. The roads were icy, yet there I was, thinking it'd be fun to see how my car's rear-wheel drive handled the frozen streets. Trying to slide the back end around an intersection, I pushed it too far. The car spun, hit a frozen embankment, and just like that, the front right panel of my Porsche was destroyed.

I then realized the paradox of luxury: the more you have, the more you have to lose, and often, the less freedom you genuinely possess.

The Volvo 240 DL: A Fortress on Wheels

Fast-forward and I'm driving from Denver to Boulder to a 7 a.m. interview at a tech division of General Electric. Traffic went from 70 to a complete stop, and my Nissan Sentra SE-R was totaled, leading to two years of full spinal recovery.

In the aftermath, I bought a Volvo 240 DL for its safety and iconic design. Known for its tank-like build, it provided a safe sanctuary devoid of the prestige and performance of a Porsche, yet it introduced a new kind of automotive freedom—the freedom from worry. Its sturdy frame and unassuming appearance made scratches and dents irrelevant, a refreshing change from the constant anxiety associated with my previous cars.

This change wasn't just about choosing a safer car but moving away from external validation. The Volvo 240 DL symbolized life without the need for external approval. It was a step towards a more grounded existence, where the joy of ownership comes not from the image projected but from its simplicity and practicality.

One evening, a routine grocery trip affirmed my newfound liberation. There was an announcement about a car incident in the parking lot. A young woman had backed into my Volvo, tearing off the front bumper. Looking at my car, I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. The damage didn't diminish the car's value to me. I realized then the worth of a vehicle, and any possession for that matter, lies not in its appearance or status but in its utility and the freedom from attachment it offers.

For the first time, owning a car felt freeing, not burdensome.

The Volkswagen Golf TDI Epiphany

When I finally got the Volkswagen Golf TDI, it wasn't because it was the car of my dreams. It wasn't about status or trying to impress anyone. It was practical, yes, but also, it just felt right. It was small, economical, and surprisingly fun to drive. It wasn't about the car but how I saw myself and what I thought I needed to be happy. It was about letting go of the idea that I needed something external to make me feel complete or okay.

I remember seeing it for the first time, with its 26,000 miles and $18,500 price tag. Driving it off the lot, I knew I had made the right choice.

Over the past eighteen years, this car and I have been through everything together. You name it: moves, road trips throughout the west, and countless shuttling of my stepkids to and from school and soccer practice. And every time I’ve loaded up the back with the seats down, marveling at how much it could hold, I’m reminded of why I love this car. It isn’t just about the practicality or the fuel efficiency but how it makes me feel. Free, unencumbered by the worries of scratches, dents, or other people's thoughts.

Sure, I've glanced at newer cars over the years.

With their beautiful lines and updated technology, Teslas caught my eye more than once. But every time I think about it, I come back to the same question: would a $50,000 car make me happier? The answer is always no. A new car means a hefty monthly payment, insurance headaches, and the ongoing worry of keeping it pristine. Why would I trade in the peace of mind and freedom I find with my Golf TDI?

Seeing this has been an ongoing reminder of what brings me true happiness. It isn’t about impressing others or fitting into some mold of what I thought success looked like. It’s about making choices that align with my values and my life. My Golf TDI might not be the flashiest car, but it represents everything I've learned about what matters. And in the end, that's worth more to me than any luxury car could ever buy.

The Core Message: Beyond the Car

Why share my shift from fantasizing about fancy cars to cherishing a 20-year-old Volkswagen Golf TDI?

This story goes beyond cars, exploring the deeper meaning of what this car represents in my life and possibly yours. Luxury's allure, while glamorous, carries burdens: financial stress, emotional upheaval, and an existential emptiness. Chasing the next best thing, maintaining appearances, and feeling the gnawing emptiness reveal the steep price of materialism. It’s a cycle promising fulfillment yet delivering fleeting satisfaction and distancing us from genuine happiness.

In contrast, embracing simplicity and functionality offers liberation from societal pressures, the fear of losing something valuable, and, most importantly, the ability to live authentically. Choosing a lifestyle that values practicality and personal contentment over prestige has been freeing. It’s helped me see what truly matters: enriching experiences, meaningful connections, and a purpose separate from possessions.

I once thought the right car would define and elevate me, mistaking possessions for a source of worth. Yet, chasing that illusion was like running in place—the finer the vehicle, the heavier the burden.

My journey through various cars taught me that happiness and self-worth aren't tied to what you own but stem from aligning life with your values and enjoying simple things like watching your dog graze on grass. Choosing the modest Golf TDI over nicer cars marked a shift towards valuing plainness and contentment over perpetual desire.

This change freed me from seeking more and better, showing me that societal measures of success often trap us in endless comparison and dissatisfaction. Breaking free from that cycle was my way of reclaiming my sense of self beyond material possessions.

The Road Ahead

As I continue on this path, the lessons learned from my experiences remind me of the beauty in simplicity, the value of practicality, and the deep contentment that arises from making choices aligned with my values. It's a path that challenges the conventional, embraces the unconventional, and celebrates the freedom of living true to oneself.

To those contemplating a similar path, remember: pursuing ease and contentment is not about denying yourself pleasure or ambition but redefining what those mean in the context of an authentic, fulfilled life. It's a path worth taking, offering rewards far surpassing material possessions' fleeting allure.

Reflecting on Your Choices

As we've traveled through this story together, from a high-maintenance Porsche to an unassuming Volkswagen Golf TDI, it's your turn to pause and reflect. It's an invitation to look beyond the surface, to question the motives behind your desires, and to consider what truly brings you contentment.

Take a moment to think about the possessions you hold dear, those you aspire to own. Ask yourself why you crave these things. Is it for the joy they bring, or is it for the image they project? There's no right or wrong answer, but understanding your motivations is helpful. It's an opportunity to reassess what you chase and why you chase it.

If there's one thing I've learned from my journey with a car that's now old enough to vote, happiness and self-worth aren't parked in a driveway. They're found in the choices that resonate with our true selves, in the ease of a life unburdened by the weight of unnecessary desires.

So, here's a challenge for you: Consider one thing you've been longing for, something you believe would make your life better, and ask yourself if it aligns with your core values. Could a more meaningful path exist to achieving the same satisfaction or joy?

Ultimately, the question isn't what car you drive or what possessions you own. It's about whether those choices reflect what you are about and what you value most. It's about finding freedom in ordinariness and making decisions that lead to genuine happiness. And if a 20-year-old Volkswagen Golf TDI can symbolize that journey for me, perhaps a similar choice is waiting for you, too—one that leads to your version of freedom and joy.

Keep choosing,

Ryan

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A perfect dog doesn’t exist, but Daisy (a pitbull) comes close. I tear up just thinking about how sweet she is.