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| Don’t hide your love for cars even when it doesn’t make sense. Photo by Sean Whelan of Steelie Ringz LLC, used by permission. |
Being passionate about cars can get you classified, in some
circles, one notch below the crazy cat lady category. The cat lady has in her
defense, however, that she is at least caring about a living, breathing thing;
car people cannot make that claim. No, we in the car culture are passionate
about an inanimate object and there’s no other way to polish that turd. Cars
also have some other aspects that are considered demerits in today’s,
hypersensitive, over-reactionary-world; for one, they burn petroleum products
that are currently as popular as the idea of a rap artist smiling in a
photograph. Cars also produce greenhouse gasses which were supposed to have
burned us up, downed us in rising oceans or destroyed food production years
ago. I guess Al Gore threatening to make himself a multi-billionaire by forcing
industry to buy his carbon credits put that nasty ocean back where it belongs.
Cars also are associated with big business and industry which we know are
routinely tying young maidens to railroad tracks and laughing diabolically as
the speeding train approaches.
For the reasons above and some not highlighted I have noticed
a self-depreciating trend among the main stream car magazines. These established
car journals seem to be in lock step with the belief in man-made global
warming, the virtues of government bail outs and ownership of car companies and
in favor of every regulation that the boobies in Washington decide to hatch.
My theory is that since most of these magazines are
headquartered in New York, Los Angeles and Detroit they fear they will not get
invited to the good cocktail parties if they are non-repentant car nuts. I can
imagine a writer for one of the big magazines at a fashionable party, “So what
do you do Mr. Smith?” “Oh, me? I write for Automotive Car and Track Magazine.”
The next thing you know Mr. Smith is occupying a lonely corner of the party
with only the zero saturated fat, MSG-free, Vegan-blessed grazing buffet to
keep him company.
It’s a shame to see so many anti-automotive positions being
taken in the big magazines, after all if they don’t defend the car culture, who
will? Additionally, the automobile brought mobility, prosperity and opportunity
to the masses, not to mention millions of jobs in related industries. Being a
car enthusiast is nothing to be ashamed of or to atone for (but ending
sentences in a preposition is, wait, oh never mind).
Honestly I really don’t care what other people believe,
except when they legislate their beliefs down my throat, but I do find a
complete consensus without dissent disturbingly curious. Do you mean to tell me not one automotive
journalist finds government taking over private industry just a tad
disconcerting and unconstitutional? Am I also to believe that not one car
scribe doesn’t know that under bankruptcy GM could have reorganized and stayed
in business? Am I also to image that not one pundit knows that there used to be
glaciers in Ohio and bothers to ask the question, what melted those glaciers,
ancient SUV’s? Oh, well what can I do except take the passive aggressive course
and only read their publications without buying them in the book stores or
months later in the doctor’s office?
What I can also do is unapologetically declare why I love cars
and what has made me a life-long car nut. The automobile is first and foremost
an intricate mechanical thing. No matter how many electronic distraction gadgets
your car has, in its heart, pistons are pulsating, a crankshaft is spinning and
metal gears are meshing seamlessly. The car is an engineering symphony of
harmonizing parts and a chorus of interconnected scientific principles. It is a
modern day miracle that the average car starts every day, for years, some for
decades, much less faithfully carries us tens or hundreds of thousands of miles.
Cars endure years of sitting outside in all kinds of weather, slipshod
maintenance, and brutal driving environments and still we are more surprised
when they fail us than when they don’t.
The mechanical nature of the car is one of its strongest
appeals for me, it harks back to an age of industry and innovation when
anything was possible and new man-made wonders were being made every day. The genius
of the car is astounding and yet someone with my level of intelligence can operate
and maintain them. The simple pleasure of moving a lever forward in its gate,
letting out the clutch while applying the right amount of gas and the car eagerly
leaping forward at my command never gets old. When you’re darting from apex to
apex feeling the suspension work, hearing the gears whir, the exhaust blat and burble
in changing resonances and you feel the slight vibration in your hands from the
steering wheel, it’s a feast for the senses and a focused calm for the mind. Hands,
feet, eyes, ears directing struts, pistons, gears and controls; mechanical
complexity blending with capricious thought resulting in perfect obedience and balance.
I tend to favor sports cars and bottom feeding economy cars that aren’t sophisticated
enough to separate me from the experience of operating a complex machine. I
love my Volvo S60 R with all its gadgets and amazing sound system, it’s an
excellent transportation appliance, but I drive my early Miatas when I have nowhere
to go and all day to get there.
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| The S 60 R, a great ride when I actually want to get somewhere, especially if I’m late. Photo by Marve Harwell. |
The second arrow in the car lust quiver is the beauty of the
things. Some cars are so exquisitely designed that it’s like experiencing a
perfectly preformed aria for the eyes. This form may be purely aesthetic like the
Bugatti Type 57 or technically beautiful like the Porsche 356,
or a functional beauty like the Willys Jeep. It has
been said that cars cannot be art because they are mass produced, functional
things and not art for art’s sake. I say, who cares what the art snobs think, I
didn’t want to have to go to a gallery, wear a turtle neck and sip wine to
appreciate them anyway. I think the car is art, and not only that, but the
highest form of art, especially those cars penned by one hand instead of a
computer or a committee. The fact that a car is functional elevates the art
form in my eyes, something beautiful to behold that can also hold a week’s
groceries is the perfect intersection of grace and utility. Then there is the sheer
beauty of the engineering, I have said it before in this blog, it’s almost
impossible to deny the fetching form of the Weber Downdraft Carburetor
and get more than one together on top of an engine it’s like a cabaret line. One
final note on the beauty of the car is that its art that can answer the deepest
longing of the human soul, the desire for freedom which brings me to my final
point.
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Three economy cars giving the last full measure of their
devotion. All three chock full of memories and mouse droppings. 1988 Pontiac
Sunbird GT, 1989 VW Fox and a 1990 Ford Festiva. Photo by Sean Whelan of Steelie Ringz LLC, used by permission.
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Marve Harwell © 2013
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