I'm watching Jon Stewart interview PJ O'Rourke on The Daily Show, and unexpectedly smiling throughout. (I find PJ mildly amusing at times, but he's gotten really tedious over the years, so I wasn't expecting much.)
My first big grin came when they lamented how you used to be able to open the hood and understand things, and fix them. Now, you might as well be flipping open an ipod, PJ said.
Nice! Finally, a levelling. I have opened my hood many times, typically to jump-start the engine after some screwup that drained my battery. (It's amazing how many times of done this.) That's one of the few items I can locate under there. It has the helpful red and black posts color-coded with the cables that never leave the old beater. The rest is a complete mystery to me.
I get shudders recalling the nasuea I felt in college, convinced that I was half a man, or less for being dumbfounded by this beast. I kept promising to myself to sign up for a course on engine-repair, and I kept trying to pick up little tidbits, assuring myself I would learn.
It was almost as bad as little league: all those fly balls I could never even get to in right field, much less scoop up in my mitt.
And now, apparently, no one can! Hahaha. Thank you, Lord.
It got better. (The show.) They went on to lament how cars were just a shadow of what they had been in terms of romance, mystique and general coolness.
Really? Thanks again, Lord. (I'm a little skeptical on this one, but I'll go with it.)
I'm still driving the same piece of shit I bought in 1991, a family car I chose because Consumer Reports said it would last longest, and I was prepping for a life as a barely-paid writer.
(You may remember the pix from my my January post There is a light and it never goes out, or the update, I want them to stop robbing me. I'll repeat the best phots here.)
(BTW, I have been so busy on the book launch--and now so reticent to face it--that I have not even reported it yet, or had the window fix. All the glass has fallen out, and the back seat keeps getting rained on. The dashboard is still ajar, with a gaping hole, and my glove box taped up. (The masking tape in the pic gave out, but when we shot my book trailer, we rode in my car and the filmmaker was nice enough to get a roll of heavy electrical tape and set it in place. I have to laugh.)
OK, I prolly do need to get that window fixed. And I am really missing the radio. But the overall sacrifice of choosing a dipshit car, driving it to eternity and allowing it to fall into to ludicrous disrepair--that was not a sacrifice for me. I was never looking at it as a second penis. I'm fine with the one.
Cars are just transport to me. I never notice them, don't give a shit.The idea of an auto show has always baffled me. I would just as soon go to the big Compost Show. When I lived in Detroit I attended the big one there just to see. Nope. Nothing.
I'm OK being out of step with the culture, but my main focus in life is studying it, so that gap made me slightly uncomfortable. I prefer the focus on films, music, books, web stuff and electronic gadgets, where it belongs. (hehehe.)
And now, apparently, according to these guys, the culture is settling in my direction. That pleases me. Even if they're just imagining all of it.
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Comments
I missed it too. Part of that is being a woman and part of it is age. Not many guys were still working on old beaters when I was in HS.
But even though I'm driving a 1994 Corolla, and the only reason I have a car is to get me from Point A to Point B, there's still something about certain cars, especially from the 50's and early 60's, that turns me on.
I'm with you. Cars are just a mode of transportation. To quote Mr. T, "pity the fool"--who wraps his or her persona and status into 4 tires and sheet metal. I have routinely bought decent vehicles in my life and then driven the literal piss out of them. When I'm done with them, they're done. But, like you, I get my money's worth.
(One point I forgot to make above is that I imagine I could have figured out how cars worked if the idea didn't bore me to tears.)
It's my birthday and I'd actually forgotten for the first time that it's "List Day" in my world--meaning the NY Times announces the bestseller list rankings to publishers. I'd also figured I was probably going to fall off the list this week. But I just got a surprise email that I'm still on, clutching desperately to the lower rungs of the list. hahaha. (I'm at #13 next week. It goes to 15. I'll take it.)
Woohoo!
OK, I mean it now: No more interruptions! Hahaha. Sorry. I'm a little giddy at the moment. First cars are desexualized, then the list, now I can marry a New Englander. Such a day.
The car I have now is 94 Jeep Grand Cherokee and it is an awesome car/truck thing. I love it, not for what it is, but for what it's done.
And, I wouldn't be trying to fix anything on it either, but when I open the hood I can kind of figure out what stuff is under there.
Congrats for the staying power on the NYT bestseller list!
I'm glad about NH and everyplace else where people wake-up.
Congratulations on the continuing success of your book Dave.
denese
I still recall my 1964 Karmann Ghia and how accessible and fun it was to work on. Carburetor repair? No problem. Need a new generator? Easy as cake. The old rule of thumb that there was nothing on a classic VW you couldn't fix with a screwdriver and pair of Vise-Grips was damn near truth.
And even other cars, models from the '70s, were easier to understand. Replacing a gasket might have been a pain in the neck, but you could still accomplish it with the right tools and enough time. You could look under the hood and point out solenoids and starters and whatever.
Granted, some say the newer engines are cleaner and more efficient, but I don't think that's what is driving the increasing complexity as much as prompting returns to the dealerships for the slightest repairs.
I can never hear that too much. hehehe. I hope you meant me.
(I was a middle child. That hole will never fill.)
primarily for low, fast, and very expensive convertibles...think Porsche 911, Benz, BMW...
and I feel a strange need to apologize to you for dumping a guy after he traded in his Benz for a Toyota Camry...I am sure there were other reasons, but still...of all the cars in the world, a Camry?!? and a blue one at that.
And then there was the football player with great legs in HS...who magically showed up with a gold Firebird or possibly a Trans-Am? (complete with the big bird on the hood) one day after being recruited by LSU. It took me all summer to realize he was really a stupid (yeah, my parents & friends told me so) but the car really made me realize the limits of our compatibility. But, I did mention that he had amazing legs (and a shrimp boat).
So, ok, I was a little shallow in my earlier life :-) just probably proving your point about how much high school sucks
Anyway, I guess it is lucky that I was never called upon to fix a car, although my dad taught all his daughters how to change a tire and jump start a car
Congrats on staying on the list, no easy feat with your topic, but good writing is good writing!
Happy birthday and congratulations on staying on the bestseller list. Getting on that list is something 99.99% of us here will never do, so woohoo indeed!
I wonder,if you kept you car long enough,it could be classified as 'vintage',and be worth a lot of money.:)
My grandfather was a mechanic, and while he'd probably be appalled that my car maintenance extends to lightbulb and fuse replacements (except for one glorious alternator repair in grad school), he also made his living off people who were willing to pay to have the work done. Coming from a long line of tradesman, it's family culture that when you hire someone in, you're not being un-manly, you're helping someone support himself (or herself, as the case may be).
Congratulations on remaining in the best seller's list. (That won't pay for a Bentley or something?)
Of course, Toyota changed the engines in the 2009 models, so you can't get an oil filter anywhere but a dealer. If you purchase this filter-thing from the dealer, no one knows how to install it because it's actually something more complicated than a mere oil filter now.
So, lesbians drive Subarus. What do gay men drive these days?