My actual transport challenge was minimal; the tree lot is six blocks from our house. Seeking the perfect solution, though, I searched the neighborhood in vain for a Radio Flyer-type wagon and ended up with a neighbor’s hand truck. Only in a car-obsessed culture would a couple of pieces of welded metal sitting on two wheels be called a “truck.” This name just confirms my theory that most people are dying to own anything they can call a “truck.” The dolly is just as useful as the hand truck and yet got stuck with a name that suggests an aversion to tough work. There’s no justice. Anyway, I chose the wrong day to transport a six foot noble fir, since we were in the midst of a driving rain storm with winds gusting up to 60 mph. With only the narrow stump resting on the bottom of the truck, knocking the tree over was a trifle for these winds. Ultimately, I’m not sure the hand truck helped, but at least we now have a tree standing in our living room and the car didn’t have to do any work.

If the car is the enabler of our excessive consumption, as I claim in my Manifesto, then what better way to break free of our shopping addiction than by giving up the car during the holidays and returning to the true spirit of the season. Real life isn’t that easy, especially when you have school age kids. The last thing I want is to have my kids associate the car-less lifestyle with penury. I need their long-term support for this lifestyle, otherwise those rainy bike rides will be met with stiffer resistance and unpleasant attitudes. So compromise and better planning are definitely in order. This year, my wife and I have attacked their Christmas lists with more online shopping and patronage of local stores, and we’re filling in the gaps with, yes, trip chaining. My wife is still driving to work every day and has stopped off at the stores on a few trips home. And a few items get left on the wish list, like a bike for my oldest son. As the most enthusiastic supporter of travel by bike, he certainly has earned an upgrade to a bike with gears. But with his birthday right around the corner, I figure I have more time to figure out how to get the bike home without the car.

Despite our compromises, this year will still be less indulgent than previous years, and our decision to stay out of the car deserves some of the credit. This time of year, people spend more time in their cars finding nearly any excuse for one more trip to the store. By not making these extra trips, we have avoided the impulse purchases that seem so important at the time, but simply dilute the significance of the small handful of truly thoughtful purchases. Irresistible purchases are proliferating in part due to the increasingly blurry line between necessity and luxury items. Over the past two decades, Americans have come to view a range of former luxury items as necessities. I realize that most of us have difficulty imagining life without the modern devices that have transformed our existence, and I’m not suggesting that we would be better off without these conveniences. But a firm appreciation of the difference between luxuries and necessities is crucial to ensuring that our days are spent in pursuit of happiness and not just convenience.