[Farewell to the Iron Box] An 8-million-yen toy car and the bubble generation that started walking. The end of the 'man's romance' of the automobile and the void
18 years old. I got my driver's license as soon as I entered university, and the first car I had bought for me was a 'Honda City Turbo'.
For the young people of that time, that small body was a 'passport to youth' that one absolutely had to possess. The body-sonic seat that vibrated in sync with the sound from the cassette tape, the sunroof spreading out overhead, and the cheeky spoiler. It was exciting enough to be disproportionate for a beginner, and every time I stepped on the accelerator, I would get drunk on the sense of omnipotence as if the world had become my own.
Decades have passed since then.
I drove two Hilux Surfs in succession, zipped through the city in a Mini Cooper, and savored the ruggedness of off-roading in a Land Cruiser 70. Furthermore, BMW, Opel, SAAB, Mercedes-Benz, Toyota Crown... As if adding to a collection, I have changed car keys along with the changing times.
For me, owning a car was a social status, and above all, an irresistible romance of controlling the 'ultimate toy for men'.
However, now that I am past sixty, the top-of-the-line domestic car (Lexus) I have on hand just sleeps quietly in the underground parking lot of my apartment in Tokyo.
Reality is cruelly rational. I am chased by work on weekdays and don't have a single second to drive it, so my wife just uses it to run errands in the neighborhood, like a pair of clogs, to pick up and drop off the kids for their lessons. If we try to go out as a family on the weekend, everyone chooses the train without hesitation, saying, 'The Kan-Etsu and the Metropolitan Expressway will be jammed anyway.'
In the end, the only time I touch this car is once a month, when I carefully wax it at the apartment's car wash and polish it until it shines. It was no longer a means of transportation, but just a 'huge, expensive iron box,' or the same as owning a life-sized toy car.
Even so, sometimes, as if urged on by the illusions of the past, I jump out of bed alone early on a holiday morning.
While my family is fast asleep, I start the engine, slip onto the empty Kan-Etsu Expressway, and step on the accelerator toward Niigata. When I play my favorite music, set the auto-cruise, and cut through the cold morning air, a momentary euphoria of 'feeling good' certainly visits me.
However, if I calm down and calculate, I am spending nearly 8 million yen for that momentary self-satisfaction. Both the utility as an investment and the satisfaction commensurate with the cost are completely missing there. Even so, I couldn't help but buy it. That might be the curse placed on the 'bubble generation' that found value in the possession of things.
Now, wherever I go, I take the train or travel on foot.
In the clear air of the early morning, I plant my feet firmly on the earth and can easily walk a distance of about 10 kilometers. Rather than the heavy engine sound, feeling my own heartbeat and the scent of the city gradually waking up feels far more luxurious and full of the reality of being alive to me now.
'Ah, I don't need a car anymore,' I suddenly realize while walking.
Looking at the world, developed countries are all returning from excessive mechanization to 'human power.' Bicycle paths are being developed, and the richness of walking is being re-evaluated. The marketing staff of automobile manufacturers, which are Japan's core industry, must be fighting intense impatience right now.
The future where a generation that does not own or need a car becomes the majority is just around the corner. How will the industry of this country, which has sold the 'man's romance' of the automobile, survive from here on?
As I start walking with my back to the 8-million-yen iron box polished to a shine, I cannot help but think of the somewhat dark future of this country.
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