Temptation!

Lead me not into temptation. My friend V has broken her thumb (in a bizarre standing up accident, best leave it unsolved) and cannot drive. She has generously offered me the use of her car and even now the keys are burning a hole in my pocket. But I have just written about the dreadful pollution that cars bring upon the hapless earth and if I use the car I shall be feel guilty again (incidentally, I was not brought up a Catholic - there are branches of the Protestant church that deal just as effectively in guilt). However, today Coco needed new shoes - his old ones are worn through so badly that he announced on the way to school that he could feel the road with one of his feet (the result of all this walking?). Plus there were a couple of parcels awaiting me at the post office. In a car I could whizz down to town. On the other hand, a bus journey would be fun for Coco for whom a bus is an esoteric delight.

The bus was late. Very late. For the first few minutes I was charmed by the way Coco could entertain himself and me with inspecting a prickly holly bush, or playing ‘guess the bird’ (you'd have guessed red and brown to be a robin wouldn’t you? Wrong). For the next few minutes I worried about him hopping about on the narrow pavement close to the busy road. Thereafter I worried about not getting to the post office in time. If only I had borrowed the car. 

Then the driver charged me a full fair for Coco who is seven. Still, not as bad as the jobsworth who charged me over the odds because I had confused the bus stops and wanted to get off two stops further on. There was, E tells me, a bus driver who regularly charged his passengers half fares and simply put the money straight in his pocket. A sort of “I’ll give you a cheap ride if you don’t grass me up”. He’s no longer on that route. I wonder if he drives buses at all now.

I have been rather taken aback by the price bus tickets. Surely it can’t cost £1.60 for that five minute journey? It does. I have tried to factor this in to my sums. For, despite any apparent smugness about no longer polluting the planet, spending quality time watching my son hopping dangerously close to heavy traffic and so on, this carlessness is first and foremost a financial affair. Going without a car has to be cheaper, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

That certainly would be the case if we decided to stay within a limited area. I have plenty of friends who do not drive and have always used buses. But most of their own friends and family are local.  I mentioned that ours seem to be flung around the country and visits to them will therefore require long distance transport. I tried to arrange to take Lexy to Suffolk by train to see her great friend but did not have the spare £75 it would have cost for the fares. And the coach took so long that a short weekend was out of the question unless time spent in a squashed, stuffy vehicle, feeling sick is your idea of a holiday. 

The answer is to hire cars and enjoy meandering the motorways of Britain (as if). Hiring a car from a local company seems good value. But a timely warning came from my friend A. Her sister had hired a car, pranged it and been landed with a £600 ‘excess’ bill. Before I speed off in a fancy little KA (ideal for a trip down to my parents either alone or with one child) or swing one of their people carriers out onto the road, I need to read the small print. Oh, and find my drivers licence. And of course, when you hire a car, you still have to pay for the fuel which, this week, was in the 130s to 140s a litre. I can vaguely remember when petrol reached £1 a gallon and that was shocking enough.

So I have been doing the sums and have concluded that running our old car probably cost in the region of £4000-£5000 a year, taking into account tax and insurance and variable maintenance bills. Hiring a car to drive to the Scottish islands in the summer will cost, including fuel, something like £750, hiring one to visit my parents will be around £110. And that may be without the insurance needed to bring my excess bill down to a more manageable £100. 

On the other hand, even if we mended our old tank, or bought a new one, who’s to say it wouldn’t break down and cost a bomb to fix? In a hire car, a breakdown would be inconvenient bust cost nothing. Sorry Mr W, we may well stay carless a little longer. 

But not next week. Next week there are complicated evenings requiring trips to school and back for concerts. There will be no smug walking the mile there and back. No, I shall drive V’s car with pleasure.