What kind of self-identifying Eco Geek drives a Ford Explorer?
That’s right. I’m now driving a massive SUV to get myself from Edmonds to Everett five days a week.
It’s a carbon footprint nightmare and requires routine $60 fill-ups.
Well, the Explorer, a 2007, I think, was a gift. It was free from a beloved family member.
My 1997 Maxima was on its way out. Water was leaking into the interior. Parts too expensive to replace were failing and my family members don’t trust it, hence the Explorer.
So I drive a less-than-planet-friendly gas hog.
This is a classic example of reality getting in the way of the greenest of intentions.
Am I an eco-failure for not finding a better way, knowing, as I do, what damage I am causing the planet?
I don’t think so, but I feel guilty and wonder if I should be more proactive and try to sell the Explorer for a little commuter car.
I don’t think the economics would pan out.
It’s like throwing away all your old appliances to get super-duper energy-efficient ones, when those original appliances should get their due, their full usage and lifespan. They, too, took resources to produce, right?
I must confess: The Explorer is nice and roomy for my little 2 1/2-year-old, whose legs are squished when we stuff him in our other car, a Mazda 3, which my husband uses for his even longer commute, southbound. (Speaking of cool cars, have you seen the Mazda 2?)
Why am I confessing all this? I guess it’s just to say that sometimes practicality and pragmatism get in the way of anyone’s ideal eco-picture.
Will my next car be green, maybe even a hybrid? Oh, I sure hope so. That is a major purchase, an ideal place to vote with my dollar, right?
But until we’re ready to take on that payment, I drive a big, white beast.
OK, fuel-efficiency experts, economists and peak-oil-weary-transition advocates: Tell me your thoughts.
But please don’t tell me to ride the bus until you’ve charted out a course that won’t require me to be away from my child any more than I already have to be, OK? That is priority No. 1.