The candid confessions of a recovering autoholic

I’ve owned every imaginable brand from a Goggomobil to a Rolls-Royce. Dozens, scores, enough to create my own traffic jam. Now, at 85, I’m down to one car that will see me out.

Auto overpopulation is overwhelmingly evident in peak periods when humans do everything they can to shun public transport. Picture: istock

At last count, there were 8.2 billion people on Earth, minus a couple of expats on the Space Station. There were also 1.46 billion cars on Earth, not counting the Tesla Elon put into orbit. Both the human and automotive populations seem a little OTT.

Auto overpopulation is overwhelmingly evident in peak periods when the traffic flow is constipated because humans do everything they can to shun public transport. At all times, the need for some form of contraception to slow the birth rate of cars is seen in the endless and desperate search for a parking space.

Horsepower versus horses. Things were probably worse in the pre-auto era when people sat in saddles or drove carriages. In terms of carbon emissions, we know the effluent from cars is an issue. But horses pooped and peed everywhere. Even smellier than diesel.

The first horseless wagon (aka car) appeared in July 1886 – the inaugural Benz. A few weeks later, Bertha Benz drove it from Mannheim to Pforzheim. Mass production? In the revolutionary year of 1917, Henry Ford unveiled his Model T. “Any colour you like as long as it’s black.”

Henry Ford and his Model T.

Electric cars? Predating internal combustion cars, they were buzzing around Manhattan in the late 1800s. The father of the electric car was a Scot, Robert Anderson, who started things rolling just on 200 years ago.

As an autoholic, I’ve owned every imaginable brand from a Goggomobil to a Rolls-Royce. Dozens, scores, enough to create my own traffic jam. Now, at 85, I’m down to my Korean Genesis. This could, as they say, see me out. But if a reliable self-drive something appears, even if built by the odious Elon, I’d grab it and spend my dotage in the back seat as sensors and AI did the work.

But my timing’s out. Living in the bush, the roads range from rutted dirt ones to poorly maintained tarred efforts, with crater-sized potholes – and such unpredictable threats as wombats and kangaroos. A “self-drive” is not up to speed with Australia’s menagerie of potential roadkill.

Oh, that this new-fangled technology was sufficiently fangled, so that I could sprawl in the back seat and listen to audiobooks. My favourite entertainment in years of weekly Gundy-to-Sydney commutes. 1,200,000km and counting. 20,000 hours FFS.

Better still – let’s go full Star Trek and be sent through the ether like a text message. “Beam me up, down or sideways, Scotty!” Have your entirety deconstructed into constituent atoms and transmitted. Is this too much to ask – given the NBN and all those 5G towers?

No congested roads. No emissions. No need for the NRMA or RACV. No need for gas stations or recharging. No Highway Patrol, no losing points. Given the NBN, there’d still be speed limits, particularly during school holidays.

Yes, as a recovering autoholic I’d still miss cars. As the Mazda ads say, “Vroom vroom!” And despite my artificial hips, I still fantasise about doing that trampolinist Toyota Leap.

Prosthetics? Dammit. I just remembered my effing Bluetooth Pacemaker. I bet that buggers the option of being beamed by Scotty. So it’s back to the drawing board.

And back to you, Mr Musk.