Spiteful attacks on disabled people having the temerity to drive posh cars are nothing new. There have been various cycles of these since the birth of the Motability scheme, in 1977, when some far-sighted individuals realised that three-wheeled invalid carriages would no longer cut it.
I have a vague memory of an almighty fuss whipped up by the tabloids before the turn of the millennium over Range Rovers being available on a scheme that gets its income from people’s universal benefits. The cars were withdrawn. No luxuries for the unfortunate!
I’m sure advocates tried to explain that benefits paid for only a small, basic car; anyone who chose a top-end vehicle paid many thousands extra from their own pocket – money they wouldn’t recoup when the car was taken away after three years. Freebie this wasn’t. The cost to the taxpayer was limited to the universal benefit, and it was entirely up to the disabled person whether they bought a car or not.
But supportive voices were faint against a wave of noisy, populist jealousy. And because a something-for-nothing perception translates into votes, few politicians spoke out.
Similar cycles of nastiness repeated in the 2010s, notably in 2017, when Jaguar Land Rover (JLR) let slip that the Range Rover Evoque would be on the Motability list. Fearing reputational damage from another backlash about freeloading disabled people, Motability told JLR the eligibility parameters around cars on the scheme had changed.
Today, after the budget, here we go again: jealousy wins. BMW, Mercedes, Audi, Lexus and Alfa Romeo have been removed from the list. Tax will be charged on the insurance included in a Motability lease and VAT added to the advance payments on higher value (but less triggering) brands of cars.
Of course Motability has flaws: its billion-pound reserves, its high remunerations, its opacity. Because of mission creep, many more young people are being awarded disability benefits. They qualify for cars when, frankly, they don’t need them.
But all that aside, the perpetual hostility to the scheme reveals an underlying, unspoken prejudice against disabled people. We should stay in our box, shouldn’t we? We should be poor, be suitably grateful second-class citizens, buy supermarket own brands. It’s almost a class thing. We shouldn’t be in a position to afford nice things. We don’t deserve choices. We shouldn’t be middle class.
In the face of populist spite, logic can’t flourish. But maybe I can try. I’m typical of a significant chunk of Motability users. Despite severe physical disability, I’ve never stopped working or paying tax. And as a shameless petrolhead (sorry), I’ve chosen to spend tens of thousands of pounds extra on Motability vehicles – money I will never get back.
I had an Audi Q2 for three years, a sexy little beast of a car. Driving it, I felt happy and whole again – at a price: on top of the lease, I blew more than £6,000 on an advance payment, four-wheel drive (essential because I live in the remote Scottish hills) and the installation of a special hand accelerator.
Three years later, I started all over again financially. My body had deteriorated. I needed a wheelchair-accessible van so that I could drive while sitting in my wheelchair rather than transfer into a car seat. With four-wheel drive and the extensive adaptations – hand controls, the rear lift, etc – my VW Transporter cost me well over £30,000. I’m hoping Motability will let me keep it for 10 years, because the money is irretrievable.
It is the cost of independence – and those who are envious haven’t a clue how precious that is.
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