If you really want to understand someone’s relationship with money, don’t look at their income, their job, or their investments. Look at their car.
A car is one of the rare purchases that sits right at the intersection of identity, emotion, and finance. It’s transportation, but it’s also status. It’s comfort, but it’s also ego. In that way, it’s less a machine and more a mirror—reflecting not just what we can afford, but what we believe will make us feel enough.
The car someone drives says a lot, even when they don’t mean it to. The person behind the wheel of a ten-year-old sedan might be quietly prioritizing freedom over flash. The person in the brand-new luxury SUV might be prioritizing validation over freedom. Both can afford the payment, but only one can afford the opportunity cost.
We tell ourselves that cars are logical purchases. Safety, reliability, practicality—those are the reasons we give. But most of the time, a car isn’t about what it does for us. It’s about what it says about us.
When cars first became common, they represented mobility, independence, and adventure. They were symbols of progress. Today, they’ve become symbols of comparison. Your neighbor upgrades their SUV, and suddenly your perfectly fine five-year-old one looks outdated. You convince yourself it’s time to trade in—for safety, for reliability, for “the kids.” But deep down, it’s rarely about safety. It’s about belonging. That’s how lifestyle creep sneaks in—not through greed, but through the quiet fear of falling behind.
The average new car in America now costs over $50,000. But the average American doesn’t feel any richer. We’ve traded reliability for luxury, luxury for comfort, comfort for identity—and now identity for debt. We’re driving nicer cars than ever before, but with thinner financial safety nets underneath us. It’s a strange kind of progress: faster, safer, shinier vehicles driven by people who feel more financially anxious than ever.
Most people don’t buy a car—they buy a feeling. The feeling of control when life feels chaotic. The feeling of success when work feels unfulfilling. The feeling of being admired, even for a moment, on the highway. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But when that feeling comes at the cost of the one thing money is supposed to buy—freedom—it becomes a problem. Because when your car payment eats your paycheck, when your identity is tied to a depreciating asset, you don’t own the car. It owns you.
The older I get, the more I realize the real flex isn’t the car you drive. It’s the life you don’t have to escape from. True wealth isn’t a luxury badge on the grille. It’s peace of mind. It’s sleeping well because you don’t owe anyone anything. It’s knowing you could lose your job tomorrow and still be fine. That’s luxury. That’s wealth. That’s freedom.
Before you buy your next car, take a moment to look in that mirror. Ask yourself what story you’re really trying to tell. Because money is never just about numbers—it’s about identity. And the car, more than almost anything else we buy, shows us exactly who we’re trying to be.