I once thought that having a car of my own would be the ultimate personal freedom. Yet, the most
“liberating” time I’ve had since buying my first car occurred when I had to learn to live without it.

My Mazda Axela — my constant companion for a year on temporary license plates as I unsuccessfully plied my luck in the monthly Shanghai license plate auction — is now immobilized. It has become a pariah in Shanghai traffic-control policies cracking down on car-plate circumventions. For two months and counting, it has been grounded at my car dealership, the place it happened to be when the rules caught up with me.

In the beginning, the separation was intensely emotional for me, like being torn from a loved one. But time heals, and I move on.

In a mega-city like Shanghai, where parking is an endless nightmare, traveling by car submits one to bittersweet “wherever you stay, I stay” bondage. My friend Alex and I were once so frustrated while roaming the street for a parking spot that we drove into a random neighborhood, cited a fictional friend we came to visit, paid for the car’s stay and sneaked past the doorman’s sight through a back exit.

Now, traveling by foot, taxi, Metro, or bus, I no longer need to weigh my destinations in terms of parking availability or the risk of receiving a parking ticket. I feel free to check out any cute little shops or grab a coffee takeaway on my way. It’s a return to the good old days of my pre-car life.

Doubts about whether I really needed a car did cross my mind even when I was fired up by the Mazda’s fiery red body and powerful lines.

How Alex set his mind on buying his first car, a BMW 5 sedan, was more passionate and spontaneous. It occurred after a few glasses of rice wine on a happy night out with some colleagues and clients.

In our late 20s, we have both been given the chance to pursue a personal mobility inconceivable to our parents’ generation before their middle-aged years. It was not until the millennium that private cars went truly mass-market in China. Since then, the growing economies of scale for local manufacturing and the omnipresence of financing plans have made cars as common and affordable as “fast-moving” consumer goods — something we can easily decide to buy, or change or let go with a little apathy.

Alex recently sent his car in for repairs after a minor accident that greatly inconvenienced him but didn’t break his heart.

“Is it because I didn’t see the car as mine or because I thought I would soon buy a new one?” he asked aloud, sounding to me like someone a bit carried away by some fast romance.

“Your car may come and go, but your Shanghai car plate is forever!” I reminded him purposely.

His 83,000 yuan (US$12,658) license plate is a bit of metal as precious as a fine-cut diamond. And only four in 100 bidders get the chance to spend that kind of money by winning at each monthly plate auction.

For me, well, I just haven’t been as lucky at the auctions. I keep wondering how possible it would be to just give up the notion of car ownership, live carefree ever after and never look back at the stories and connections I have truly developed with my Mazda.

China, after leapfrogging from a country of cyclists into the world’s largest auto market in mere three decades, is shifting into a lower gear. According to a recent consumer survey by McKinsey & Co, one-third of respondents said they consider car ownership a necessity but find the idea less attractive than in the past. Up to 60 percent said they no longer consider cars as status symbols, and 47 percent cited diminishing value amid worsening traffic conditions and rising use costs.

Just one month after Shanghai’s traffic overhaul started to crack down on petty violations, my auto journalist friend Jasper had racked up as many tickets as he had received in the entire past year.

“This is more than I can bear,” Jasper confided in me. “I am selling my car.”

“I am sure it’s just a streak of bad luck,” I replied, half-jokingly. “If we all bid farewell to our cars, it would be devastating to the industry we cover.”

Amid diffident consumer interest, China’s car sales growth may slow to 5 percent in the next five years from an average 12 percent in the past five years, according to McKinsey. The consulting firm noted emerging alternatives, like hire cars, as another way to privacy and convenience on the road.

Bracing themselves for the road ahead, global carmakers are immersed in a self-transformation to extend beyond pure car manufacturing into integrated mobility services.

The auto industry’s shared vision is to help users grasp a big picture of real-time transportation, based on great connectivity and big data analysis. The new pattern encourages shuttle cars plus Metro, ride-sharing and even car co-ownership. All of it makes private car sales less relevant to auto industry profits.

Are we looking at a “brave new world” different from the dystopia portrayed by writer Aldous Huxley, where Ford as the inventor of assembly lines introduced consumerism as the most important element in the world’s value system, no matter how selfish or frivolous?

“Those who decide to buy a car before getting a Shanghai license plate these days are indeed very brave,” I told myself of my own reckless decision.

In retrospect, my decision was the result of mass-induced urges and a desire to “have arrived.” But in hindsight, I wouldn’t have acted any differently. China’s traditional value of respectful humbleness is giving way to the “work hard and spend harder” modern culture that is considered more helpful to the country’s economy. And we, the young generation, have little trouble unlearning the old-school concepts.

Consumerism can never work as a perpetual motion machine, though. While China as a relatively young auto market indulges itself with new cars and more motorists, mature car markets in the West have long developed a cost-effective culture of buying one’s first car second-hand. They make us see our tomorrow.

Only after I have “been there, done that” can I now manage to cut loose from my car and say less is more. The taste of freedom might contain some lingering bitterness from an agonizing breakup, but it is better than sour grapes.