Only last week, I had a superfluity of wheels. Of the sort attached to motorised vehicles. Roll on (sorry) a few days, and I’d struggle to cobble together the basic components of a unicycle. Most of the events leading up to this (temporary) state of affairs were intentional. Some, however, were not. The decision to sell my scooter and buy a newer, slightly-faster-than-walking-pace alternative, was scuppered somewhat by the Curious Incident of the Car in the Night-time. Except it wasn’t actually scuppered. Because it turns out there’s quite a market in piles of old metal and broken plastic that could feasibly be a useful source of parts for a major repair job on another scooter, but are much more likely to become a sort of rusting garden ornament, under the guise of a ‘project’ that someone is permanently ‘just about to get round to’. However. The Curious Incident did slightly throw out my carefully constructed sequencing of wheel offloading. And that, along with an unexpected last minute flurry of interest in the car I’d pretty much resigned myself to trading in, plus the fact that the car I’m hoping to buy is halfway across the country, have come together to create my current situation. Which explains why, rather than driving in a car that I had then planned to leave in part exchange for a new one, in which I could then drive home, I find myself sitting on the first of four trains and deeply regretting my failure to procure a coffee.

I did experience a brief wave of euphoria on completing the sale of my car. The idea of being free, not tethered to all these material goods and their associated administrative processes – parking permits, insurance, services, tax and MOTs… was really quite seductive. It was seductive for precisely 5 minutes, which was the amount of time it took me to walk to the nearest bus stop and see that there was a 20 minute wait for a bus which then immediately joined a queue of traffic moving more slowly than a broken scooter, and which was apparently populated entirely by people whose sole aim in life was to provide as offensive an assault on the senses (well, four of them at least – I didn’t actually have to lick anyone) as was humanly possible.

All of this was, I have to admit, ameliorated quite significantly by the large brown envelope containing several thousand pounds in £20 notes, tucked casually into my bag. Nothing to do with the potential of the money itself which, let’s face it, is merely passing through on its way to some lucky salesperson’s back pocket. By the end of that journey, I’d been a drug dealer, money launderer (that one was tricky as I’m not too clear about what that actually involves), donated to several worthy causes, and had starred in a film with one of those ‘throwing money up in the air whilst frolicking on a bed in my underwear’ scenes. I’d also used a fair bit of poetic licence in the whole ‘what a few thousand pounds will buy you in this day and age’ arena.

But. My point (and you can blame the hours of sitting around on public transport with nothing better to do than string out a blog post for the length of time it’s taken me to get to it) is that I expected to feel free and unencumbered, but in fact I just felt a bit pathetic. Beholden to others for lifts, or at the mercy of timetables and bus routes and things I can’t control. At the same time, I thought I might feel frustrated with longer journeys and time wasted travelling. Whereas in fact I’ve really enjoyed the experience of seeing different places from the train, and having time to read, update my blog, and do all those things that feel like guilty pleasures in comparison to the pile of household chores that need doing at home, and that are probably not that safe to attempt while driving. 

So, some pluses, some minuses. Surprising outcomes on all fronts. I declare this experiment complete. Just to be clear, I’ve been wheel-less for just under 24hours currently. And if this train arrives on time, I’m very much hoping to have test driven and purchased a new car in approximately 2 hours from now. So the experiment has not been a long one. Long enough, though. I am now on my final train. And, happily, the itinerary incorporated a gap between trains three and four just long enough for me to pop into Starbucks for a hazlenut cappuccino.