The old Volvo is…the Volvo is the one Vern’s been driving for twenty years. I can’t explain why right now, but I will present a metaphor. This is the same idea as where is your home? Is it always at the house you live in? Or is it defined by something else like the people you live with? The way I see it, our homes lie with the people we love and we are loved by. Home is where we feel at home just as Vern’s Volvo is the car he feels is his Volvo. The parts don’t actually matter. The frame of the car and windows could be replaced, but the whole car is still the one that Vern sees as his Volvo. The entirely new car may be made of different things than it started out with, but it’s still the same car because of how Vern feels about it.
I’m going to offer a rather morbid example. If I were to get into a horrible accident and all of my limbs had to be replaced with artificial ones, I would still be me. Even as my “old” arms and legs rotted away somewhere, they are no longer part of me. My artificial limbs are part of who I am now. I’m still Bayla with the same essence that is my being. Just as the Volvo is defined by who is driving and how the driver feels, I am defined by my personality and attitude. My general mood may darken a little bit and I might change because of how horrible the accident was, but I have a core that can’t be changed. I will always have a bit of shyness I need to overcome with people and I will always survive. That will never change. I overcome my shyness much more easily than I once did and I have crumbled a bit under pressure at times, but the foundation of Bayla remains the same.
I could even have my entire body replaced—it wouldn’t make a difference. If I continued to accept myself and allowed others to see me as the same person, I would be me. The old heap of parts just can’t be Vern’s Volvo simply because Vern doesn’t see it that way. As I said, the Volvo’s identity relies solely on Vern’s view of it. However, if I were to completely change myself with an entirely different personality, I would no longer be Bayla. I would not simply be a slightly different version of myself, I wouldn’t be me. If every part of the Volvo was modified to have new features, then it would no longer be the old Volvo. I still believe though, if the parts are all the same and maybe just a little bit more strong than the previous ones, it’s the same Volvo.
It wouldn’t make a difference if the old parts were put together to make another car. It’s just a new, poorly-made car. My old body parts could be put together to make a robot, but it’s just a robot…not me.
And now as I reflect upon this problem and what I’ve written I’m starting to wonder why any of this matters at all. Is it of anyone’s concern which set of things is the old Volvo or even if the old Volvo still exists? I really don’t think so. Perhaps the reason this question may be so perplexing is that cars are given “human” qualities, often being referred to as “she.” At the end of the day this problem only affects Vern. What he feels is what matters most. Perhaps this question is pertaining to issues of identity. I remember someone saying in class that we are never the same person as from when we’re born. I’d have to disagree entirely. Yes, we develop and change a little as we grow, but I whole-heartedly believe we all have a foundation as I mentioned. Nothing can change that.
I think it’s part of our biology and built into who we are. In our brains and in the chemicals of our bodies we have some underlying person. And now I would expect Ms. Kimball to ask something along the lines of “What happens when the brain is changed?” and I’d have to respond with that we are changed. Our brain truly does define us. Having recently seen a documentary on schizophrenia I’ve come to realize how much of us must be defined by our brains and biology. The documentary followed a pair of twins and how one twin radically changed in manner, thinking, and attitude once her schizophrenia started showing symptons. She changed so much that her twin sister felt like she had lost the most intimate relationship she had ever had, but I may be digressing too much here.
The underlying point of the previous paragraph is that, if this question was meant to raise questions about ourselves, here’s my answer: we are (and the volvo is) the same as long as what defines our basic function isn’t changed. For people, the defining quality is the brain. For the car, there is true defining part as far as I can tell from my knowledge of cars. So as long as the car serves its purpose for Vern and he feels like it’s his car, the one Vern is driving is his old Volvo. The parts are all the same; they do the same things. So what if the parts are a little shinier? People often develop and show the best of themselves as they grow older too. It doesn’t mean they’re any different.
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