The Porsche In My Head
Let me tell you about a car I don't own.
A 911. Air-cooled. Late eighties. Guards red. Simple interior. No traction control. No nonsense.
I've admired that car for twenty years. I know every detail. The rear engine layout. The five gauge cluster. The whine of the air-cooled flat six. I've read every article. Watched every video.
I think it's perfect.
And I've never bought one.
Not because I can't afford it. Not because I don't have space. Because every time I get close, something stops me.
The maintenance scares me. The attention worries me. The idea of owning something that precious feels heavy.
So I admire it. From a distance.
And then I walk past it to a different car. An older, cheaper, less respected car. One that I keep choosing. Even though I know the 911 is "better."
That's the difference. Admiration lives in your head. Choice lives in your driveway.
The Cars You Respect But Never Drive
We all have them.
The Ferrari you'd never buy because you'd be afraid to park it.
The classic Mercedes that's beautiful but needs a mechanic on speed dial.
The track-ready sports car that's too stiff for the road you actually drive.
The exotic that gets attention everywhere, and you hate attention.
You respect these cars. You might even love them. In theory.
But in practice? You never reach for the keys. Because reaching for the keys comes with baggage. Worry. Compromise. Fear.
That's not a relationship. That's a museum.
What "Keep Choosing" Actually Means
Let me describe the car you keep choosing.
You don't think about it. You just grab the keys. Even when the "better" car is sitting right there. Even when you told yourself you'd drive the other one today.
You choose it for the grocery store. For coffee. For the coast. For nothing at all.
You choose it when it's dirty. When it needs gas. When it's making a weird noise you haven't fixed yet.
You choose it because it's familiar. Because it fits. Because it doesn't ask too much of you.
That car might not be the fastest. Or the prettiest. Or the most respected at a car meet.
But it's the one you actually live with.
And living with something is different than admiring it.
The Cars I've Admired But Sold
I've made this mistake more than once.
Buy a car I've admired for years. Finally get it home. Park it in the garage. Walk around it. Smile.
Then drive it for a month. And realize… I don't actually want to drive it.
Not because it's bad. Because it's too much.
Too precious. Too loud. Too stiff. Too attention-grabbing. Too stressful to park. Too expensive to fix.
So it sits. I walk past it to my other car. The boring one. The one I keep choosing.
And after six months, I sell the admired car. Take a loss. Feel relieved.
That's happened three times. You'd think I'd learn.
But admiration is a strong drug. It makes you ignore the voice that says "you won't actually drive this."
Listen to that voice.
The Test I Use Now
I learned a trick.
When I'm considering a car, I ask myself one question.
Would I take this car to the airport?
Not a road trip. Not a canyon run. The airport. At 5am. In the dark. Possibly in the rain. With luggage. And the risk of parking lot dings.
If the answer is no? If I'd hesitate because the car is too nice, too loud, too valuable, too anything?
Then I'm admiring it. I'm not choosing it.
The car you keep choosing passes the airport test. Every time. Because you don't care about the miles. Or the dings. Or the early morning cold start.
You just need to get there. And you'd rather do it in that car than any other.
That's real. That's honest. That's the difference.
The Miata Problem
Here's a classic example.
Everyone admires the Mazda Miata. Car people love them. Journalists love them. They're objectively brilliant.
But not everyone keeps choosing one.
Because a Miata is small. And loud on the highway. And not comfortable for tall people. And impractical for carrying anything.
So people buy them. Admire them in the garage. Then drive their Civic to work.
That's not the Miata's fault. That's the owner's fault for buying a car they admire instead of one they'd actually choose.
The Miata is a great second car. For some people. For others, it's a great car to admire from afar.
Know which one you are before you spend the money.
What I Keep Choosing
Let me be honest about my own driveway.
I drive an old BMW coupe. Early 2000s. Nothing special. Worth maybe eight thousand dollars.
It's not the fastest car I've owned. Not the prettiest. Not the most respected.
But I grab its keys more than any car I've ever had.
Because it fits. The seat is shaped like me now. The shifter is in exactly the right place. The steering feel is perfect for these roads. It's fast enough. Not too fast.
It's not precious. I park it anywhere. I drive it in the rain. I let it get dusty.
And every time I walk past my garage, I choose it. Without thinking. Without hesitating.
That's not admiration. That's habit. And habit is deeper than admiration.
The Cars I Still Admire
I still love the 911.
I still love the Alfa Romeo Giulia. The E39 M5. The air-cooled Porsche. The Ferrari 355. The old Land Cruisers. The clean air-cooled VW buses.
I admire all of them. I read about them. I watch videos about them. I talk about them with friends.
But I don't own them. Because I know myself.
I'd admire them in my garage. And then I'd walk past them to the old BMW.
That's not settling. That's knowing.
Admiration is free. Ownership costs money. And stress. And garage space.
So I keep my admiration where it belongs. In my head. Not in my driveway.
The Pressure to Upgrade
Car culture pushes you to admire the wrong things.
"Dream car." "Grail." "Endgame." "Bucket list."
All these words make you feel like you're supposed to want something bigger, faster, more expensive.
And if you're happy with what you have? That feels like failure.
But here's the secret. The people who are actually happy? They stopped chasing admiration. They found the car they keep choosing. And they stopped looking.
That's not failure. That's success.
You don't need a garage full of admired cars. You need one car you actually drive. One car that fits your life. One car you reach for without thinking.
Everything else is just noise.
How To Tell The Difference
Ask yourself these questions.
Do I think about this car when I'm not driving it? Admiration thinks. Choice feels.
Would I take this car on a boring errand? Admiration wants the perfect road. Choice just wants to move.
Am I afraid of something breaking? Admiration worries. Choice accepts.
Do I park it far away from other cars? Admiration protects. Choice lives.
Do I make excuses not to drive it? Admiration waits for the right moment. Choice makes the moment.
Be honest with your answers. Most of us aren't. We tell ourselves we're choosing a car when we're really just admiring it.
Stop lying. It's expensive.
The Car You Actually Need
You don't need the car everyone admires.
You need the car you keep choosing.
The one that makes errands feel like something. The one that fits your body and your life and your budget. The one you don't have to make excuses for.
That car might be boring to other people. That's fine. They're not driving it.
You are.
And if you keep choosing it, day after day, month after month? That's not boring. That's love.
Not the flashy kind. The quiet kind. The kind that shows up on a Tuesday morning when you're not even thinking about it.
That's better than admiration. That's actual living.
