Ccccccars
I noticed that most of the kids I know like sports cars. Let's see: CLK 500, S2000, and then those companies which I consider out of the running: Ferrari, etc. But why this obsession? I mean, since life isn't Grand Theft Auto 3, we really have no use for fast cars. So what do you use these really small (even two seater), low to the ground, bumpy ride cars for? Basically to make up for your small penis.
Alright I'm exaggerating. I don't doubt that you have a healthy-sized penis. But there seriously is little more obnoxious than those drivers who peel out of a red right because that's the only speed they can use their big engine.
If you're going to spend the money, why not get a luxury car? I mean, my dream car is the S600 (once again, there are some cars which are out of the running: Aston Martin, Bentley, etc.). But say you have a reasonable amount of money for your car (ca. US$ 30k). Then you can get a Maxima or an Avalon, which both have tons of leg room, good gas mileage, and luxurious suspension. Or, if you still insist on a luxury car (or if you want a small car because you live in a city), you can get a Mercedes C-class or BMW 3-series. Both of these have awesome handling (which really make driving much more fun than a big engine).
Or you could get another one of my favorite cars: the Chevy Trailblazer. Now for those of you who hate SUVs for the sake of hating SUVs, let me tell you something. This car gets awesome gas mileage (three times my midsize, admittedly old, Taurus). Some figures include 27 MPG city, over 30 highway. I'd also mention that it handles like a mercedes (and has a really tight turning radius like a mercedes). Finally, cars are really really easy to drive if you're high up. This leads the car to be safer. Being right off the ground in a Lambroghini doesn't give you the greatest perspective of the road. It's fun because it's scary, but you can't claim to be a better driver for it.
Of course, it'll be years before I can afford a decent car. Until then I'll be sticking to gas-guzzling eleven-year-old GM's with huge GM doors and keys that fall out of the ignition while you're driving.
Alright I'm exaggerating. I don't doubt that you have a healthy-sized penis. But there seriously is little more obnoxious than those drivers who peel out of a red right because that's the only speed they can use their big engine.
If you're going to spend the money, why not get a luxury car? I mean, my dream car is the S600 (once again, there are some cars which are out of the running: Aston Martin, Bentley, etc.). But say you have a reasonable amount of money for your car (ca. US$ 30k). Then you can get a Maxima or an Avalon, which both have tons of leg room, good gas mileage, and luxurious suspension. Or, if you still insist on a luxury car (or if you want a small car because you live in a city), you can get a Mercedes C-class or BMW 3-series. Both of these have awesome handling (which really make driving much more fun than a big engine).
Or you could get another one of my favorite cars: the Chevy Trailblazer. Now for those of you who hate SUVs for the sake of hating SUVs, let me tell you something. This car gets awesome gas mileage (three times my midsize, admittedly old, Taurus). Some figures include 27 MPG city, over 30 highway. I'd also mention that it handles like a mercedes (and has a really tight turning radius like a mercedes). Finally, cars are really really easy to drive if you're high up. This leads the car to be safer. Being right off the ground in a Lambroghini doesn't give you the greatest perspective of the road. It's fun because it's scary, but you can't claim to be a better driver for it.
Of course, it'll be years before I can afford a decent car. Until then I'll be sticking to gas-guzzling eleven-year-old GM's with huge GM doors and keys that fall out of the ignition while you're driving.
posted by Owen Martin | 1:32 PM
1 Comments:
It fascinates me that so many people consider "things" to be extensions of their personality. “Things” include cars, clothes, cell phones, shoes, jewellery, landscape gnomes ... I suppose it’s a valid claim that in our society we define ourselves by our possessions. Hell, humans have been doing this since the “cognitive leap” 40,000 years ago when social status was shown by the type and amount of beads you wore around your neck. We have to express ourselves somehow. We need to show the world which social group we belong to, be it punk rocker or hippy stoner or suburban family prototype (with the minivan and the digital watch) or even the enigmatic “I-have-my-own-style-and-stand-alone” class that everyone seems to want to join these days.
Anyway, all this talk about cars as a metaphor for personality reminded me of this time in New Brunswick when I met a guy named Pepper. My dad and I were eating fish and chips at this restaurant/bar called Galloway’s on Grand Manan Island (say Grand Manan quickly and it sounds like “Grandma Nan,” which really suits the island quite well). Pepper was drunk out of his mind after a hard day’s work at the fish farm. He wobbled over to our table, went down on one knee and asked me if anyone had proposed to me lately. It was quite funny, and I blushed bright tomato red and giggled helplessly (a rather bad tactic, but it’s really the only one I have … alas). We started talking and eventually Pepper offered to lend us his motorcycle. He said (in his clipped way of talking), “Just come down to 1916 Seal Cove. I’ve travelled on that bike all over the country. That thing goes so fast you feel the world rushing past you … God, you’re gorgeous” (to me - and inaccurately, funny what alcohol does to one’s eyesight).
Thinking about the style of your car is such a middle to upper class, first world problem (just like saying, "damn, I ate too much again"). While it certainly is nice to have a luxurious car, I want to know what happens when you strip away all that ridiculous “style”. What’s left? It might be that freedom that Pepper was talking about. Being able to just jump into a car (or boat, or mechanical bird, or bicycle (in my case)) and aim at the horizon. Seeing as much as you can – a pint in every bar and having sex in every time zone.
Ah, the life of a hell raiser. Here I am, rambling away (when I probably should be working) about ridiculous romantic ideals that are so different from my actual life. If I ever had a point I’ve forgotten what it was. Transportation gives us freedom, and maybe that’s why we want to infuse cars with our personality. They become a part of us because of what they give us. Just like a knight’s horse or a pirate’s ship – you can’t imagine one without the other...
Enough ridiculous bullshit. I need an injection of sense. Long, long, long overdue.
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