Making Moarrrrrr

by barffie

As the cost of living rose dramatically over the past 2 years for all of us in Singapore, I am personally seriously feeling the pinch like never before.

Of course, the car is a huge expense to start with. The bank loan, the rising petrol costs, the parking charges, the maintenance and replacement of parts, the insurance and the road tax… all of these are really very very very taxing on my finances. After all, we live on one of the most expensive places to own and maintain a car.

It’s perhaps easy to say “Sell the car lah! Since it’s so expensive to upkeep!” But with the awful loan that I have taken (10 years, to be exact!), topped with the unwillingness to go back to taking public transport once again – I have to come to terms that the premium I am currently paying is inextricably improving the quality of my life in immeasurable terms.

Yes, the choice of long convoluted words expressed the complex emotions I felt about being a car-owner to no end.

Since day 1 of that wonderful thing called car-ownership, I loved being able to zip around everywhere I so wished. I wouldn’t be able to accomplish so much of the CWS errands, meetings and events if I didn’t have my own ride. Taking taxis may end up costing even more, considering the amount of distance I have traveled in the comfort of my dear little R1.

Oh. But oh… At the same time I felt so much guilt with this huge expenditure that I have brought upon my good self. I don’t earn a million bucks a month. Why did I embark on this somewhat doomed journey to my personal financial hell? How did I convince myself to sign above that darned dotted line? I never was one for big wilful purchases… How did I even get started on that thought of wanting to get my own car?

Wait. I remember. I remember those agonising days of waiting for the bus in the scorching heat. Those days of having my clothes stuck to my back with sweat that oozed out incessantly, no matter how many times I tried to imagine a calm, cool lake in my frazzled mind. Those times when my back ached constantly from standing in queue at the crowded bus interchange.

Jeffwee would definitely remember the fast and furious SMSes that I sent him whenever I missed the feeder bus, and when there were never cabs available when I needed them the most. Oh, how much I hated fighting the hoard of rush hour zombies, a hoard that I was an unwilling member of.

Now, I am able to curse loudly, in the comforting confines of my car, at errant drivers with half a brain to cut into my lane without signalling their intentions in advance. I absolutely adore that freedom.

What is waiting in line for a parking lot in town? Beats being at the taxi stand with 20 other disgruntled people like me for sure. I am enjoying the perks of having my own car so much that I feel quite awful about it. Because I have to pay through my nose for that kind of pleasure.

It seemed almost… foolish… to fork out exorbitant sums of hard-earned money when I could have just stayed, like a good girl should, as a rush hour zombie. Yes, my only joy in life would be: to snatch a seat on the packed trains, and keeping my ass on it for the entire trip home, without having a heavily pregnant lady or an old man appear in front of me.

It’s an absolute luxury to be able to lug bulky items home in the boot of my car. I’ll just need to focus on getting home safely – without having to balance a ton of bags and stuff while fighting the insane crowd.

That’s until I see the dwindling figures in my bank account.

So now you know. The daily torment of funding that sweet luxury. So I need to make moar money. Moar moar moar money to fund that addiction of car-ownershipaholism…

I has it. And I has a sad. Argh.