We spend a lot of time concerned with vehicles.
The ones we drive. The ones others drive.
We notice their shape, their colour, their condition.
We compare them. Judge them. Decorate them. Envy them.
We assign meaning based on appearance — assuming the flashier the car, the better the driver must be.
But a car is just a machine.
It’s designed to move. To carry. To wear down over time.
And when you step back and look closer, a question emerges:
What matters more — the car, or the one behind the wheel?
You can’t tell everything about a driver by looking at their car.
Some cars are brand new, but the person driving has no sense of direction.
Some are battered, old, weathered — but the one inside knows exactly where they’re going.
And when the driver is absent, the car is still.
It doesn’t matter how powerful the engine is, how polished the exterior, or how expensive the design — without the driver, it goes nowhere.
You are not the car.
You are the one behind the wheel.
This body, as complex and beautiful as it is, is still a vehicle.
It allows you to move through this world, to experience, to engage.
But it is not permanent.
It wears down. It needs maintenance. It has limits.
And eventually, it stops.
When the car can no longer move, the driver doesn’t disappear.
They just step out.
And what happens next depends on whether they knew they were driving — or thought they were the car.
Too many people spend their lives decorating the vehicle.
Polishing the exterior. Modifying for performance.
Obsessing over how others see them on the road.
But what about the one inside?
What about the condition of the driver?
Are they awake? Focused? Calm?
Do they know where they’re going?
Or are they just accelerating with no destination in mind?
A good driver doesn’t just care about speed.
They care about direction.
They care about how they move through the world.
They know when to brake. When to yield. When to stop and reflect.
And they maintain the vehicle — not for status, but for purpose.
Because they know it’s a trust.
And one day, they will hand it back.
So ask yourself:
Am I caring for the driver, or just the car?
Am I living for appearances, or for purpose?
Am I going somewhere worth going?
And will I be ready to step out of this vehicle when the time comes?
Because when the journey ends, no one asks about the leather seats or the paint job.
Only whether you drove well.
Whether you reached the right place.
And whether you remembered that you were never the car — you were always the one inside.