Dedicated readers of this blog will recall that about eight months ago, I calculated the cost-per-mile of driving my car. In the end, I concluded that it cost me 40.2 cents per mile to drive my car at that time (the cost will always vary because of the changing price of gas).
Today I'm wondering if -- given the costs of driving your car -- it can be cheaper to drive a rental car in certain situations.
First, let's break down the cost of driving per mile, as I calculated them: 16 cents for gas, 8.6 for maintenance, 15.6 cents for depreciation. When you rent a car, you still have to pay for gas, but not for maintenance and depreciation. So, with a rental, I'm saving 24.2 cents per mile (8.6 + 15.6) in the latter two categories.
But that doesn't count the cost of the rental itself, and that's a key element in this equation. If I rent a car for one day and drive 100 miles, I've saved $24.20 in maintenance and depreciation costs. But almost all rental cars cost more than $24 for a day, so renting isn't saving you money.
On the other hand, let's say if I drive 200 miles with a one-day rental that costs a plausible $40. Then I've saved $8.40 ($48.40 - $40) by not driving my own car.
Let's take a "real world" example. Say I want to drive from Long Beach, California, to Santa Cruz, California, spend one day there and then drive back. A total of three days. It's 369 miles each way, according to Google, for a round trip of 738 miles.
Multiply .242 by 738 finds that I would save $179 in depreciation and maintenance costs for that trip. But how much would a rental car cost?
A little online searching finds a bunch of low-priced rental car offers from sketchy companies I've never heard of. But renting from a reputable outfit like Enterprise for three days would be a total of $125 (and some persistent price hunting might find a lower price).
So yes! You can save money by renting a car. But do your calculations carefully. You're going to save most for a long-distance trip over a short period of time. Be sure the rental car comes with unlimited miles.
Also, keep in mind the "hassle factor": How will you pick up and drop off the rental car? If it's a long way to get there and back, that's defeating the purpose. Can you park your car at, or near, the rental place? Will you have to pay for the parking? Or maybe you need a ride there and back? Each situation is different.
Friday, January 3, 2020
One day at the Rose Parade
"It is imperative that you arrive at your parade seat location by 6:30 a.m. on January 1, 2020."
The sentence startled me. A friend had just kindly given my wife and I four bleacher tickets -- each with a face value of $110 -- for the next day's Rose Parade. We were excited by the chance to see the famous parade along with our two kids.
But included with the tickets was a small yellow piece of paper saying it was "imperative" that we be there by 6:30 a.m. Really? Even though the parade didn't start until 8 a.m.?
Getting there by 6:30 would mean we would have to get up no later than 5 a.m. And once we did get there, what would we do? Just sit in our bleacher seats for 90 minutes, on a cold January morning, waiting for the parade to start?
It was enough to make me question whether this was a good idea.
To be clear, you don't have to get tickets to see the Rose Parade. You can watch from the sidewalks for free. But to get a good spot on the curb to sit, someone from your group has to grab some curb space the day before, set out chairs or blankets, and spend the full night there to keep hold of the spot.
If you come in the morning, all the curb space will be gone, and you'll have to jostle with scores of others for some kind of standing space on the sidewalk. I did this once, 35 years ago, but even on my much-younger legs of the time, standing in one spot for three hours was taxing.
Paying for reserved bleacher seats means you'll have a guaranteed spot to sit, and don't have to spend the night sleeping on the sidewalk. But the high price has always deterred me, so when these free tickets fell into our lap, I realized this was a great opportunity. We couldn't pass this up.
The yellow note didn't say what would happen if we didn't get there by 6:30. Would we be denied access? We didn't want to take the chance, so we set our alarms for 5 a.m. New Year's day.
There were other things on the yellow note that drew my attention. "Your seats may be within the boundaries of the Tournament of Roses security zone and you will need to have your tickets to gain access to this area... All patrons are subject to search."
A long list of "prohibited items" included such items as drones, laser pointers, hoverboards, selfie sticks, e-cigarettes, "any kind of noise makers," and "diaper bags unless accompanied by a child. "
Of particular concern to me was that one prohibited item was the strangely phrased "Beverages other than water (all factory sealed)." We were planning to bring water since it appeared we would be there for 4 to 5 hours, but this now seemed to say we could only bring sealed disposable water bottles. Yes, disposable water bottles, the container that has become Public Enemy No. 1 in the fight against plastic waste. Seriously?
It was already late on New Year's Eve at this point; unsure what to do, I slipped two small (non-sealed!) water bottles into my jacket pocket to sneak into bleachers. Would I get away with it? In my mind, I imagined burly security guards frisking parade-goers, eager to snatch away water, hoverboards and diaper bags.
We rose at 5 a.m. and stumbled out of our Long Beach home by 5:30. The freeways were gloriously free of traffic -- a sight so rare in Southern California that it alone nearly made the early start worthwhile.
I'd given quite some thought, the night before, to where we would park. You can attempt to drive into Pasadena and find paid parking, but it's unlikely to be easy or cheap. Hundreds of thousands of people descend on the city for the parade and the Rose Bowl game. So many streets are blocked off, and there are so many people roaming the city, that simply driving anywhere in Pasadena on the morning of the parade can result in extreme aggravation.
We opted, instead, for mass transit. And -- spoiler alert! -- it worked beautifully. We parked at the Monrovia Gold Line station at about 6 a.m. There were a small number of other people arriving around the same time, all clearly headed to the parade. There was plenty of parking.
I was disappointed that we had to pay $3 to park -- I thought the fee might not apply on a holiday -- but I was pleased that there was parking person on hand who gave me the correct information.
We did have to load up Metro Tap Cards with the proper fare, a small chore, but soon after that a train arrived and we were on our way. We exited five stops later at the Memorial Park station in the heart of downtown Pasadena and joined a throng of pedestrians heading to the parade. As we walked, I could see a line of motorists, looking miserable in their idling cars, stuck in the congestion while we strolled casually by.
We hustled as best we could to reach our seats by the supposed 6:30 deadline -- and didn't quite make it. We got there around 6:40, and found the bleachers 95% empty. What the?
What's more, there was zero security check and no one ever checked our tickets.
Our seats were not in the bleachers you see in on TV, but about a half-mile down the road, on an overpass overlooking a freeway.
To kill the time, we walked around a bit (the parade route was filled with pedestrians), bought some food and water, and used the porta-potties (hold your nose!).
You know that part about no banning "any kind of noise makers"? You could buy vuvuzelas -- the plastic horns that can emit a loud annoying buzz -- from a vendor right in front our bleachers. Meanwhile, a set of Bible-thumpers strolled up and down the street before the parade, the "word of God" booming from their speakers. No one did a thing to stop them.
There was never the slightest indication why arriving early was "imperative." You could have walked up and taken your seat without any problem right up until parade time (after the parade started, it would be harder, but not impossible, because you could no longer walk in the street).
Despite the so-called ban on beverages, you could have brought any kind of drink you wanted.
Remember how no one checked our tickets? Once the parade began, there were a smattering of empty seats in the bleachers. It would have been easy for anyone to have come and sit down in the $110 seats. I'm just saying.
And the parade itself? It was great, filled with wonderful floats and exhilarating marching bands. I wouldn't have paid $440 for my family to see it, but it was definitely worth our 5 a.m. wake-up time.
The parade ended at our viewing spot about 10 a.m. Afterwards, we walked back, amid a large crowd, to the train station. Many people were doing the same, but Metro employees did a good job funneling people into correct lines and keeping everything orderly. We only had to wait about five minutes for a train.
We were back home in Long Beach by 11:25 a.m. A good time to take a nap.
The sentence startled me. A friend had just kindly given my wife and I four bleacher tickets -- each with a face value of $110 -- for the next day's Rose Parade. We were excited by the chance to see the famous parade along with our two kids.
But included with the tickets was a small yellow piece of paper saying it was "imperative" that we be there by 6:30 a.m. Really? Even though the parade didn't start until 8 a.m.?
Getting there by 6:30 would mean we would have to get up no later than 5 a.m. And once we did get there, what would we do? Just sit in our bleacher seats for 90 minutes, on a cold January morning, waiting for the parade to start?
It was enough to make me question whether this was a good idea.
To be clear, you don't have to get tickets to see the Rose Parade. You can watch from the sidewalks for free. But to get a good spot on the curb to sit, someone from your group has to grab some curb space the day before, set out chairs or blankets, and spend the full night there to keep hold of the spot.
If you come in the morning, all the curb space will be gone, and you'll have to jostle with scores of others for some kind of standing space on the sidewalk. I did this once, 35 years ago, but even on my much-younger legs of the time, standing in one spot for three hours was taxing.
 |
| A float from the 2020 Rose Parade |
Paying for reserved bleacher seats means you'll have a guaranteed spot to sit, and don't have to spend the night sleeping on the sidewalk. But the high price has always deterred me, so when these free tickets fell into our lap, I realized this was a great opportunity. We couldn't pass this up.
The yellow note didn't say what would happen if we didn't get there by 6:30. Would we be denied access? We didn't want to take the chance, so we set our alarms for 5 a.m. New Year's day.
There were other things on the yellow note that drew my attention. "Your seats may be within the boundaries of the Tournament of Roses security zone and you will need to have your tickets to gain access to this area... All patrons are subject to search."
A long list of "prohibited items" included such items as drones, laser pointers, hoverboards, selfie sticks, e-cigarettes, "any kind of noise makers," and "diaper bags unless accompanied by a child. "
Of particular concern to me was that one prohibited item was the strangely phrased "Beverages other than water (all factory sealed)." We were planning to bring water since it appeared we would be there for 4 to 5 hours, but this now seemed to say we could only bring sealed disposable water bottles. Yes, disposable water bottles, the container that has become Public Enemy No. 1 in the fight against plastic waste. Seriously?
It was already late on New Year's Eve at this point; unsure what to do, I slipped two small (non-sealed!) water bottles into my jacket pocket to sneak into bleachers. Would I get away with it? In my mind, I imagined burly security guards frisking parade-goers, eager to snatch away water, hoverboards and diaper bags.
We rose at 5 a.m. and stumbled out of our Long Beach home by 5:30. The freeways were gloriously free of traffic -- a sight so rare in Southern California that it alone nearly made the early start worthwhile.
I'd given quite some thought, the night before, to where we would park. You can attempt to drive into Pasadena and find paid parking, but it's unlikely to be easy or cheap. Hundreds of thousands of people descend on the city for the parade and the Rose Bowl game. So many streets are blocked off, and there are so many people roaming the city, that simply driving anywhere in Pasadena on the morning of the parade can result in extreme aggravation.
We opted, instead, for mass transit. And -- spoiler alert! -- it worked beautifully. We parked at the Monrovia Gold Line station at about 6 a.m. There were a small number of other people arriving around the same time, all clearly headed to the parade. There was plenty of parking.
I was disappointed that we had to pay $3 to park -- I thought the fee might not apply on a holiday -- but I was pleased that there was parking person on hand who gave me the correct information.
We did have to load up Metro Tap Cards with the proper fare, a small chore, but soon after that a train arrived and we were on our way. We exited five stops later at the Memorial Park station in the heart of downtown Pasadena and joined a throng of pedestrians heading to the parade. As we walked, I could see a line of motorists, looking miserable in their idling cars, stuck in the congestion while we strolled casually by.
We hustled as best we could to reach our seats by the supposed 6:30 deadline -- and didn't quite make it. We got there around 6:40, and found the bleachers 95% empty. What the?
What's more, there was zero security check and no one ever checked our tickets.
Our seats were not in the bleachers you see in on TV, but about a half-mile down the road, on an overpass overlooking a freeway.
To kill the time, we walked around a bit (the parade route was filled with pedestrians), bought some food and water, and used the porta-potties (hold your nose!).
You know that part about no banning "any kind of noise makers"? You could buy vuvuzelas -- the plastic horns that can emit a loud annoying buzz -- from a vendor right in front our bleachers. Meanwhile, a set of Bible-thumpers strolled up and down the street before the parade, the "word of God" booming from their speakers. No one did a thing to stop them.
There was never the slightest indication why arriving early was "imperative." You could have walked up and taken your seat without any problem right up until parade time (after the parade started, it would be harder, but not impossible, because you could no longer walk in the street).
Despite the so-called ban on beverages, you could have brought any kind of drink you wanted.
Remember how no one checked our tickets? Once the parade began, there were a smattering of empty seats in the bleachers. It would have been easy for anyone to have come and sit down in the $110 seats. I'm just saying.
And the parade itself? It was great, filled with wonderful floats and exhilarating marching bands. I wouldn't have paid $440 for my family to see it, but it was definitely worth our 5 a.m. wake-up time.
The parade ended at our viewing spot about 10 a.m. Afterwards, we walked back, amid a large crowd, to the train station. Many people were doing the same, but Metro employees did a good job funneling people into correct lines and keeping everything orderly. We only had to wait about five minutes for a train.
We were back home in Long Beach by 11:25 a.m. A good time to take a nap.
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