I Love My Subaru

A love letter to the cars that carry us

A white 2013 Subaru Crosstrek with a crumpled bumper, a cracked windshield, and a lot of heart.

Meet Harriet.

With 170,000 miles on the dash, Harriet has been my tour manager for almost every tour I’ve gone on. She’s the car I sleep in at music festivals. Her sound system is how I listened to the very first mixes of my new album.

She’s got a crumpled bumper from my very first fender-bender and a cracked windshield from the time a hate group threw a bag of rocks at her in the middle of the night;

She’s got sand from 20 beaches embedded into every corner, a CD player that still works, and a bluetooth function that does not;

She carries bones I found in Tanktown, wildflowers from my friend’s kid in Wisconsin, and a piece of my girlfriend’s tooth;

She’s paid off, she still runs, and — most of all — she’s mine.

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My friend Lindsey (of Little Mazarn and Little Armadillo Press) recently designed and printed me a bumper sticker that’s Subaru-themed. It’s so fucking good that I’m releasing it on Bandcamp for 3 reasons:

1. I tour almost exclusively out of my 2013 Subaru Crosstrek (the aforementioned Harriet, named for Harriet the Spy), which I feel deserves a merch shout-out;

2. I’m going on a bunch of tours soon and I’m trying to raise some funds to help cover costs; and

3. Subarus, as we all know, are gay. I am, as we all know, also gay. Ipso facto: incredible gay merch.

As soon as I received the packet in the mail, I slapped one onto Harriet’s bumper. They’re yellow, an homage to the yellow 2006 Subaru Baja, and seeing my own merch beaming from my own bumper as I prep for tours that will have me sharing stages with Emmylou Harris (I cannot believe I’m saying that), Michael Hurley (or that), and a whole slew of extremely talented people I can’t believe I call friends (or that!!) has me feeling very proud of what it took for me to get a car at all, and how that car has shaped my music career, my transness, and my life.

I know in my logical brain that people buy cars all the time, and that for most people, the process of buying a car isn’t hard. But for me, it took so much. To buy Harriet, I first had to save all my money up for 12 years, in spite of working jobs at homeless shelters and nonprofits and schools and with stagehand unions, and working 5 of them at a time. Then, I had to get a tech job that could actually pay me a living wage. Then, it took me a year. A year of adjusting to what making a living wage feels like, and allowing myself to buy myself dinner every once in a while. A year of reading and rereading Kelly Blue Book and Reddit to understand what models last the longest, what parts are hardest to replace, which cars guzzle the most oil. A year of asking my (very sweet) coworkers to drop their work and teach me about interest rates and how to buy insurance. A year of visiting the Subaru dealership in Austin again and again, getting cold feet again and again because Jesus fucking Christ, $18,000 is a lot of money; a pause in the work when my back went out for 2 months and I had to take the bus to get to clinics for steroid shots in my ass; a moment when it seemed like my parents might sue me and all my money would have to go instead to a lawyer…

Until at last, Harriet and I found each other.

I sat in her front seat, turned the key, and thought, Fuck, this is my car.

I bought Harriet with all my savings in 2019. I had just turned 30, had just estranged myself from my family, had just started dating my now-girlfriend and a few other friends, had just gotten my first-ever promotion. By the time I quit that job in 2021, the car was paid off, my thyroid was taken care of, and I’d moved in with Little Girlfriend into a beautiful rental house in one of my favorite neighborhoods in Austin, where I wrote my very first album and became Creekbed Carter. The car didn’t necessarily make things like transitioning or my name change or dating my girlfriend or becoming a trans folk musician possible, but it did enable those things to happen. Without the car, those things become much harder. When things become harder, they also become less likely to happen.

And so Harriet has come to represent independence, safety, self-sufficiency, and survival. Her presence in my life means I still have a handle on those things. When she breaks down, in my brain at least, it means that I don’t.

My grubby lil Subaru with my own bumper sticker which reads: “If this Subaru is running, I’m listening to Creekbed Carter.” Lindsey, you hit it out of the goddamn park, my guy.

Here’s some of what Harriet has done for me in our time together:

• Toured all over the South, East Coast, and Midwestern United States, plus some of Canada, all with some of my dearest friends and heroes

• Took me and Little Girlfriend on our first big trip together to a state park where we sat on Harriet’s roof eating pad thai and watching a meteor shower (extremely romantic)

• Functioned as a safe haven for scream-sobbing, breakdowns, and panic attacks

• Moved me halfway across the country to live in a more trans-friendly metropolis that I’m honestly loving

• Helped me drive over ice and snow in the 2021 Austin ice storm to check on my friends who had no power or water or heat

• Carried me to and from jail support for the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, and the Texas State Capitol building for the anti-trans protests of 2023, and the Free Palestine rallies and encampments and protests that are ongoing

• Took me to Arkansas for the first time, and so many times after, where I met people who changed my life and found my current record label

• Helped me evade not 1, but 5 separate tornadoes this spring

• Took me to some extremely haunted places and some extremely beautiful swimming holes

• Got me to the football stadium where I received my very first COVID vaccine, and the CVS’s where I’ve gotten almost every one after that

• Brought me to dates and first-time friend hangs and parties and funerals and countless shows and gigs and festivals and rodeos and adventures

• Helped me call myself by my own name for the very first time, and leave behind the one that didn’t serve me

• Kept me on the road, on my own terms

Cars are really emotional objects, for everybody, when it comes down to it. When they run well, they can mean access, possibility, adventure, refuge, and independence. As a person who first took the bus in Austin for 10 years pre-Harriet (iykyk how insane that is), having a running car can mean getting to a job on time, getting better-paying jobs, or even just getting time alone, away from your roommates and the din and chaos of the human condition that becomes extremely visible when taking public transportation.

When cars don’t run well — when they stop running — when they act up — here come the feelings of shame, and scarcity, and panic, and isolation. Your car can get seized by the bank. Your car can leave you stranded in the middle of rural North Carolina. Your car can get infested with mice in New England and you and you alone will have to solve it, deal with it, find a way to afford the tow truck and evict the mice and get back on the road.

It’s no wonder, then, that I had a slight meltdown last week when I finally took Harriet to a new mechanic. She’s been guzzling oil, sometimes needing a fill-up every day of tour, and finally the mechanic (kindly) told me that it’s because her engine is burning oil too fast. Fixing her engine will cost more than the resale value of the car itself. She will continue to break down over time.

Beyond the first thoughts — Namely, How the fuck am I gonna afford a new car? and How the fuck am I gonna be a musician without a car? — came the heart of it, the real trauma-oriented fear that sits beneath every panic attack I have about cars in my life:

That’s my home. Please don’t take another home away from me.

Luckily, all panic subsides. Here’s the thing. All older cars that have traveled 170,000+ miles need babying. I am not a failure for having a car that needs some extra care. None of us are! And there are very easy solutions, as my girlfriend reminds me, even without a full-time job that pays a living wage. I’m gonna start ordering oil in bulk at cheaper prices so I always have oil ready to fill up the tank again. I’m gonna run her till she runs out. I’m gonna pay attention. You know, I’m hard on my cars, but my cars tend to be tougher than the rest, so I think we’re gonna make it out okay, Harriet and I.

Cars breaking down due to wear and tear does not mean I am failing at taking care of myself. And when Harriet finally dies, that doesn’t mean I have to go back to the life I was living before her. I am who I am, and no one can take that away. It’ll all work out.

But I also know that we gotta give flowers to the ones we love while they’re still with us. So now I’m writing this love letter to my Subaru, one of the longest relationships I’ve ever had, as we enter the sunset phase of our time together. In doing so, I’m also writing love letters to your cars, your bikes, your buses: the things that carry you.

May you be carried safely.

May you pass through the rain storm, the ice storm, the tornado, without a scratch.

May your bus be on time, your bike tires never deflate, your own engine hum without a hiccup.

May your mode of transportation bring you romance, and friendship, and adventures, and loud singing parties.

May it bring you closer to yourself.

And when it’s time to move on, may it show you the marvel that you have become.

P.S. By the way, I’m about to tour all over the damn place this fall, and all of it is cool as HELL. So I just wanted to let you know. Here are some upcoming stops this month alone:

9/17 Nashville, TN | Americanafest: A Tribute to Mary Gauthier | That’s right: I’m playing a tribute show to one of my favorite living songwriters, and I’m sharing a stage with some of my other favorite living songwriters, including Emmylou fuckin’ Harris, Jaimee Harris, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Rodney Crowell, Gretchen Peters, and more. City Winery, 7pm (badge holders only)

9/19 Nashville, TN | Americanafest: Official Showcase | I’m making my Americanafest debut and I’m doing it alongside folks like Lou Hazel and Freight Train Foxes. Jane’s Hideaway, 11pm (free)

9/20 Nashville, TN | Americanafest: The Alt-Country Show(Case) | I’ve been admiring The Alt-Country Show for a minute now. They do really rad work lifting up both beloved and undiscovered country artists, and now I get to play their showcase along with TikTok bud Moe Reen, Judy Blank, and Nicky Diamonds! Pretty good! Honeytree Meadery, 5pm (free)

9/21 Nashville, TN | Americanafest: At A Glance Agency Day Party | I’m teaming up with queer-run At A Glance Agency to book a few shows this fall and see what it’s like to have help booking, and this will be their day party. Zach Bryson and I will finally meet IRL, along with Marley Hale, Dani-Rae will be there with her killer band, and a bunch of folks I don’t know yet but am stoked to meet. Virgin Hotel, 2pm (free)

I hope I see you out there — nothing better than running into an online friend in a big ole city you don’t know!