The American Dream Is Dead… Unless You Consider This

I have a car.

Doesn’t sound like such an interesting way to launch into today’s dispatch. But it’s the first car I’ve owned in Europe—a fact that not only makes me quite happy, it ties even more deeply to this continent I’ve adopted as my home.

More broadly, it speaks to a bigger notion that pursuing the America Dream is no longer really an American Dream. For an increasing number of Americans—particularly older Yanks like me—the dream is to get away from America for a richer, happier, more affordable life abroad.

I landed here, on the other side of the Atlantic, just over five years ago. First in Prague, and as of last summer, in Portugal. Until December 22, I’d not owned a car here. In Prague, I never needed one. Didn’t want one, in fact. My vehicular life in the U.S. was a decades-long string of never-ending traffic jams that I hated in the most profound sense of that word.

Living in a city like Prague, with abundant and cheap mass transit, was five years of vehicular decompression. No more traffic. No more stops and starts. No more roadway frustrations. And did I mention cheap? My annual transit pass for subways, trams, and buses was all of $160 per year, less than the typical American spends on gasoline in a month.

Here in Portugal, the situation is different. I don’t live in the heart of Lisbon, where I can walk everywhere or hop on a subway or tram to ferry me to wherever I’m going. I live 45 minutes to the west, in a beachy community called Cascais. Here… my wife and I need a car.

Since last summer, we’d been renting cars on month-long contracts from airport car-rental agencies for about €350 to €425 ($380 to $460), including insurance. In some ways, that strategy is freeing. We had a new, clean car every month and someone else had the joy of cleaning up, seeing to maintenance, and whatnot.

But in other ways, it’s annoying.

The car is not yours.

I had to worry about every ding and scrape, knowing the rental agency was going to slap a fee on me for the most minor of matters. I had to get used to the nuances of a new car every month, some of which were missing bells and whistles that made other cars more pleasurable to drive.

And my wife and I both knew that as the spring and summer months arrived, the rental cost was going to soar into the $500 and $600 range during the heart of the tourist season.

So, as Christmas approached, we decided our own set of wheels was the perfect Christmas gift for ourselves.

Which is why a brand new, 2023 Mini Countryman sits outside our apartment.

It’s a lovely car. Comfortable to drive. Spacious for our family of three. All the features I want or need.

And it’s just €360 per month ($390), insurance included, less than we’d been paying for month-long rentals.

The day after Christmas, we headed north, into the Portuguese mountains, to hang out for several days at a hotel with a thermal spa. As I was motoring along, I realized that my European life suddenly felt more permanent than it had in Prague.

More rooted.

I mean, we have car payments now. We have car insurance.

Now, we’re talking about buying a house or an apartment, maybe in Lisbon, maybe near Porto. That would mean a Portuguese mortgage.

There’s nothing that says “planted” more than a mortgage.

While lounging near the heated pool at the hotel, I happened upon a story in the news feed on my phone about Americans who are quitting America. They’re beyond frustrated with their American life—working two or three jobs just to survive, struggling to afford even the most rudimentary healthcare, worried about their safety or their family’s safety at school or the mall or church. Unable to afford a quality retirement because their nest egg isn’t feathered enough for the egregious costs of living in America.

So, they’re voting with their feet, or rather their passport, and heading off to new lives in Europe or Latin America or wherever.

They don’t hate their country. They love being Americans.

But they simply cannot afford the American Dream. So, they’re recreating the American Dream outside America.

As I read that, I realized: That’s me!

I have a car now. In Europe.

Soon, a house.

After five years on the continent, I’m rebuilding my American Dream… in Portugal.