When to Go Basic–And When to Go Big

Seth Godin’s daily blog today used cars as a metaphor for different types of projects: “They apply to jobs, relationships, art projects and everything in between.” His four-part matrix has a horizontal axis from fast to slow while the vertical axis from feeling stable to feeling thrilling.

I took him literally, and wrote him this letter:

I value the metaphor but want to talk about actual cars for a moment:

A client once gave me a ride in his Maserati. The thing that shocked me was how utterly silent it was at 60 mph. At that speed, it was about luxury, not power and noise–a Fast and Secure in your matrix. I think it would have been a different experience at 100+ mph.

I’ve generally favored utilitarian car choices–cheap, reliable, boring. Mostly Toyota Corollas (including the Chevy Nova Corolla clone of 1988). But twice, I’ve been the accidental owner of sport sedans–high-performance cars disguised as boring. I bought a used 1975 Fiat 131 four-door sedan in 1981 when I moved from the city to Western Massachusetts, because I didn’t know any better–and only found out that Fiats of that era were notoriously unreliable when it was already our headache. We bought it for $1500 as economy transportation.
Fiat 131 sedan: Clark Kent on the outside, Supercar in handling. Photo by by Bene Riobo via Wikipedia (Creative Commons)

It was unbelievably fun to drive–when it worked. We got the car at 65,000 miles, which is the prime of life for a Corolla. In the ~9000 miles/nine months we drove it, we had failures of the entire exhaust system, the entire brake system, even the bleeping steering column–and if it was cold, rainy, or snowy, we often needed a tow. We were young and broke, used to public transportation, and not prepared to be owning a money pit. We sold it as a parts car for $500 and were lucky to get it. The second was a 2004 Mazda 3 hatchback that we bought new, thinking of it as an economy car that was a little peppier than most. Turned out it only got 30 mpg. It was also really fun to drive, and reasonably reliable. I guess it would be a Hot Rod but with zero visual indication of high performance. We gave it to our kid in Metro Boston in 2018 when my stepfather was killed and we got his ultra-low-odometer Honda Fit, six years old, 14,000 miles, not at all fun to drive (underpowered even compared to a Corolla) but incredibly well-engineered for storage. Definitely in the Boring quadrant. We’re still driving it, along with a 2005 Corolla. Oddly enough, Raf only got about a year out of the Mazda, which started needing expensive repairs. But at least it was 15 years old when it started to go.

Do I regret trading fun-driving cars for reliable ones? Not at all. The genuine pleasure of ultra-responsive steering, braking, and acceleration was fun, but ultimately, for me, the purpose of a car is to get me someplace. Appreciating the engineering that made at least the Mazda both safe and fun was like visiting a friend who spent ten grand on a really good stereo system. I could take joy in the moment but didn’t feel a need to own it. We live relatively simply and spend more on travel than on material things.

But I certainly have my own areas where I will spend more to get significantly higher value. It was true when I spent $3K on a Mac in 1984, recognizing that the much shorter learning curve compared to a pre-Windows IBM PC was going to pay big dividends in my career as owner of a writing business–especially in being able to produce resume while-you-wait and know exactly what they’d look like before hitting the print button. And while I’ve found ways to keep the costs down, I stock our kitchen primarily with organic and local items instead of chemiculture frankenfoods shipped from far away.

So let me ask you: what luxuries do you value enough to pay significantly extra for, and why? My own two areas, as noted above, are both experience-based.

Travel

I love travel because (at least the way we do it), it gives us chances to experience the world differently–to see different perspectives, different approaches to common problems–kind of like looking across from your chosen career to what the standard procedures are in some completely unrelated career (and what lessons can be found there).

Travel, for me, often involves staying with locals. But even if I’m not doing homestays, when I travel, I make a point of finding ways to connect with local people. I take public transportation, shop at independent local markets, wander through ethnic neighborhoods, strike up conversations, eat in places frequented by locals, take guided walks led by rangers, historians, and naturalists, visit artisan workshops…I don’t spend much time in the classic tourist areas.

And the insights I’ve come away with include noticing that…

Iceland’s non-vehicle power needs are met almost entirely by renewable hydro and geothermal (even as far back as my 2011 visit).
Quito has a public transit system (that I’ve since seen several other places) that combines the advantages of buses and trains, using dedicated rights-of-way and raised boarding platforms (aligned with the bottom of the bus door) that require turnstile-entry so when the bus comes, it can board much faster because all the passengers have already paid and no one has to climb stairs.
Peru and Guatemala figured out intensive high-altitude agriculture many centuries ago, and the Incan and Mayan agronomists were as sophisticated as any modern research team.
In much of the developing world, reuse and recycling are so integrated into daily life that nothing is thrown away if it has an iota of value remaining.
Judaism–and thus the Christianity and Islam that derived from it–has enough parallels with Hinduism (other than the schism between monotheism and polytheism) that it tells us there were active trade routes between South Asia and the Middle East thousands of years ago.
Two visits to Israel and Palestine, 28 years apart, gave me the chance to gain much greater knowledge on the conflict, and how it might be healed in ways that felt just all around. My wife and I met with the founder of an Orthodox Jewish peace movement, a Palestinian-American blogger who taken had moved to Ramallah and become a Palestinian citizen despite the restrictions on his movement this entailed, a man born in the 1930s who clearly remembered his entire village being evicted from the place they’d lived for generations, even right-wing Israeli settlers.

All of these observations find their way into my world view–and my consulting practice.

Food
I’m willing to spend considerably more money for a fabulous food experience. I’d much rather pay $20 for a memorable meal in a restaurant featuring local specialties than $4 for fast food that’s indistinguishable and unmemorable. I shop local and organic because it offers both superior taste and superior health and nutrition. I buy fair-trade chocolate and farm eggs because I can enjoy their wonderful taste–and also I enjoy knowing that I am NOT propping up a system based on child slavery (non-fair-trade chocolate) or animal cruelty (industrial eggs).

But I will also find bargains! One of my favorite meals in my life cost 75 cents and fed two of us: we were in the Mexican heartland, walking to a national park. We inhaled the aroma of fresh tortillas and stopped into the tortillarilla to buy half a kilo of still-warm corn tortillas. At the little neighborhood market, we found a large, perfectly ripe avocado. We took our finds to that park, sat under a giant poinsettia tree, and enjoyed a feast that I still remember as divine. This was way back in 1985 and burned into my memory, happily, for ever–one of many wonderful food memories I keep there.

And What About You?
So, once again, I’ll ask you: what luxuries do you value enough to pay significantly extra for, and why? Please share in the comments.

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