We just watched A Man Named Otto with Tom Hanks.
Excellent movie, which I’m not really here to talk about, except for one of the subplots.
(Spoilers Ahead)
The character played by Tom Hanks is throughout his life a devoted Chevrolet owner. His friend and neighbor likes Fords, which severely strains their relationship over the years.
In an early scene where Otto is a boy, his father shows him the car’s engine and says something like :“That’s a Chevrolet motor. That’s dependable.”
Oh boy. Heeeeeeeeeeere we go. I’ve been hearing that sort of thing since I was growing up in the 60s and 70s. I’ve known people like that over the years and I’m even related to a couple.
I think this is why the internet was invented. That and cat videos.
Apparently Chevys are marvels of engineering and never break. In fact, GM dealers don’t even need to have service departments. Chevrolet engines are immortal and will outlast the heat death of the Universe.
Meanwhile the roads are so littered with broken down Fords and Chrysler products you can hardly move.
This way I can piss off both sides. I’m equal opportunity.
Or maybe it’s the other way around. Ford trucks can tow an ocean liner up Mt. Everest while a Chevy can barely pull the skin off a day-old chocolate pudding. I don’t know these things. I always figure I can rent a truck for the one day out of the year I need to haul something that won’t fit in our station wagon.
You get the idea.
“First On Race Day”
“It’s MOPAR or no car!”
“I’d rather walk than drive a ___________ “
It seems to be worse among pickup truck owners. Ford trucks vs GM is like Catholic vs Protestant. Not sure what that makes Dodge, or “RAM” as they’re calling their trucks these days. Maybe they call them “RAM” because that’s what they’re always trying to do to my car.
And God forbid you drive an import. Might as well join the Communist Party at that point.
I can remember back when owning an import, at least in the Midwest, would mark you as an oddity at best and a traitor at worst.
Once in the early 1980s I was threatened with physical violence for riding a Japanese motorcycle. I have not forgotten this. In case you wonder at my sometimes disdain for Easy Rider cosplayers. Yeah, I know it wasn’t you but that sort of thing is hard to let go of.
Here’s the thing. A car is a consumer product. It’s not a religion. It’s not a nationality. It’s not a tribal identity. It’s a piece of metal. It doesn’t love me.
I am no more loyal to Brand X or Brand Y of car companies than I am to toaster manufacturers.
I don’t think KitchenAid and Breville owners are posting memes about each other on Facebook.
Speaking of which. What’s the deal with all the “Yeti” stickers on car windows? Yeah I know they make great coolers but Black & Decker makes some really awesome extension cords and I don’t give them free advertising space on the back of my car.
And no, I’m not going to buy a Brand Y just because it’s (mostly) made here.
Sorry Mister Detroit auto executive. If you want my hard earned money you might try building something I want to buy instead of waving the flag at me. The same goes for you Budweiser.
(Typical Budweiser commercial: Clydesdales, flags, heart-stirring music, more flags, even more flags, Clydesdales saluting the flag…..)
Cars are expensive and I’m not going to buy something that doesn’t suit me just because it’s made next door. Pretty sure that’s how Capitalism is supposed to work. You make something I want, I give you money for it.
I’ve owned a lot of cars over the years. Too many actually. Make that way too many. I’ve usually had a “hobby car” that I was restoring plus I keep an “airport car” for work. I still have my 57 DeSoto because I can’t bear to part with it. Everybody and their Aunt Susie has a 65 Mustang, nobody has a DeSoto.
Between my wife and I we’ve had Fords, GMs, Chryslers, VWs, Nissans, Acuras, Audis, Mercedes plus a couple of Jaguars, or “Jaaaaaaags” as Jeremy Clarkson likes to call them.
I had several muscle cars back in the 80’s when they were still just old cars. This was before guys my age starting paying six figures to own the car they had in high school. I found them generally to be troublesome regardless of make. To be fair, it probably had as much to do with how I drove them as the cars themselves.
One of them ate clutches like they were potato chips. Then I put a heavy duty clutch in it. After that it broke everything except the clutch. Plus my left leg got to be twice as big as my right leg. Driving it was like working out on the Stairmaster at the gym.
Most everything I’ve had that was built since the mid 1980s has been pretty reliable if properly maintained. The only modern cars that have ever left me on the side of the road were both airport cars and were probably on their last legs when I got them.
Some have been better than others, mind you.
I had a bad experience with a mid 1990s Chrysler which wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for the truly awful dealer service department. I finally ended up talking to the regional service rep who basically told me to go pound sand. Needless to say I haven’t bought another one.
Keep acting like you don’t like your customers and that problem has a way of sorting itself out.
Then there were the two Jaaaaaaags. Beautiful, powerful, comfortable, solid, wonderful handling sedans that were every bit as troublesome as you’ve heard. I didn’t learn my lesson with the first one and went back for more, because I enjoy pain.
The second one was a V12. Did I mention that I enjoy pain? I think I put the service manager’s kid through college with that car. This was long after the days of Lucas Electrics, so I can’t even blame the “prince of darkness”.
When it got to where parts on the XJ12 were breaking faster than I could afford to fix them I traded it on an Audi. We’ve been driving mostly Audis since then.
Shows how bad Jags are if they make German cars seem reliable. I think the Brits like to show off their engineering prowess by making every part twice as complicated as it needs to be.
The day Audi stops making things I like I’ll buy something else. I owe them no allegiance. I don’t have a cartoon of Calvin peeing on a BMW symbol in my back window. I don’t have the four-ring emblem tattooed on my body. To my knowledge, no one in Ingolstadt Germany has built a statue of me.
Heck, even my rural in-laws in Appalachian Ohio drive Subarus these days. Who’d have thought?
