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Unfortunately, my travels and my business usually bring me to New York City a few times a year. I really don’t care for it. Bad smells, democracy and Chipotle are all nauseating to me. Thankfully, though, there’s been an increase in private driveways to sooth my nerves.


I was mildly surprised when I found a write-up on the driveway of my most recently purchased apartment in the real estate section of lowly local rag, the New York Times. It made me wonder how long that poor (I mean, literally poor) reporter had to stand on the street, waiting for a car to pull up just so they could get a glimpse inside.


Yes, the driveway is a 3,000-square foot porte-cochere. Yes, the white column in the middle reminds me of a frozen whirlpool of... white stuff. Mmm. And there’s a cobblestone floor because it’s quaint. Like the south of fucking France or something. But best of all, it’s another gate between me and the poors outside.

But here’s what the NYT writer gets wrong:

The rest of us can only crane our necks to catch a glimpse of a cloistered world out of reach. (...) Wealthy buyers want privacy in all caps. The private drive came roaring back into fashion when 15 Central Park West opened in 2007. Now, porte-cocheres, circular driveways and gated courtyards are cropping up in Manhattan developments aimed at buyers looking to avoid flashing paparazzi cameras, or anyone who might gawk.

Cloistered? Me? Fuck no! I want everything I own right on display. I want you to know how much better I’m doing than you... because I think it encourages you to be better, too. See? This is all for you.

Got a mortgage to pay off? How about save for a yacht instead. Got college to pay for? The islands are calling.


So, no, the private garages aren’t for hiding me, they’re for hiding you. You think I want to see your mug when I get in the car to leave in the morning? No, by the time that door opens, I will hopefully be engrossed in something other than what’s outside of my car.

You’ll understand some day. Just remember: every cent counts!