Life in the Middle Lane

What my Peugeot e-208 taught me about burnout.

Photo by Oxana Melis on Unsplash

When my father and I bought me a car, I opted for an electric one. London is one of those places where you don’t need a car, but if you are privileged enough to buy one, opting for electric is the way to go.

Cleanliness and climate change concerns aside, you don’t pay road tax (£0 per year, though you still need to register and formally ‘tax’ the vehicle); you save on gas if you have a charger at home (which I don’t, but still); and most importantly — at least until the end of 2025 — you are exempt from something called the Congestion Charge, the government’s attempt to reduce traffic and pollution. Which, if you drive in the city, at £15 a day, can add up to some serious spending.

But that’s London. You go outside, breathe the air, and pay £100. One of these days, I joke with my girlfriend that they’ll introduce a Human Congestion Charge — that is, you are taxed for walking on the streets because there are too many people around.

Or a Pre-Age Tax: you pay for your underdeveloped prefrontal cortex because, statistically, teenagers and minors are more likely to be involved in anti-social behaviour.

Or maybe they’ll go the Russia route and introduce a Childlessness Tax to raise birth rates.