Getting Out of New York

I have never felt so trapped in Manhattan. I’m still blaming our rainy June for my current level of apathy about life in New York, but the truth remains: I’m a little sick of being here. And I think I might want a car. One of the things I’ve always loved about living in New York City was how unnecessary a car is, but I’m starting to covet one nonetheless. There’s still no need to have one to get around the city itself, but it feels so impossible to get out of the city that I’d like one for the weekends. Rental cars and zip cars in the city are really expensive, and they book up so far in advance that you can forget about anything resembling a spontaneous weekend getaway. And I’m frankly sick of public transportation. I feel guilty saying it, because public transport is good for the environment, but I’m still sick of it. I’m sick of spending half an hour just to get to Penn Station, standing around for another 10 minutes waiting to find out what track I’m on, feeling like herded cattle as I and a zillion other people shuffle onto the platform, and then listening to someone’s cell phone conversation for the length of the trip.

The problem, of course, is that like everything else, cars are more expensive in New York than they are anywhere else. Unless I want to spend half my life looking for parking, I need to account for an expensive parking spot in a garage somewhere, which just makes the cost of the car that much more outrageous. I haven’t compared the cost of insurance in the city with that of other locations, but I can just imagine that it’s a lot, lot more, too.

I know I’m not leaving New York. Even if I wanted to, there are too many reasons to stay right now. But I’m sick of it anyway.