[DeTomaso] NPC? Men and Cars essay

Charles Engles cengles at cox.net
Sun Dec 2 13:14:35 EST 2012


Dear Forum,   

 

          Now for something completely different.   I read this is in the
Wall Street Journal and thought that I must share it with my fellow
gearheads.

 

                                   Warmest regards,  Chuck Engles

 

 

 

 

           When Men and Cars Were Truly Bonded              by  Joe Queenan
from WSJ December 1, 2012

 

 

          "In 'Skyfall', the spectacularly entertaining new James Bond film,
Agent 007 initially doesn't seem terribly offended by Javier Bardem's
sadistic depredations.  For the first two hours, Bond seems to accept the
idea that psychopaths will be psychopaths and boys will be boys.

 

           Invade the Houses of Parliament for the specific purpose
assassinating the head of MI6?  Cheeky, but well within the ethical
parameters of top-flight espionage.  Ravage the London Underground,
destroying a dozen subway cars in the process?  All in a day's work.  Murder
one of Bond's best friends and send a dozen other British secret agents to
their deaths?  Good God, Javier, you were only doing your job.  No one could
hold that against you.

 

              But then Javier goes on step too far and destroys Bond's
beloved Aston-Martin.  To which 007's reply is, "Meet your maker, scumbag."

 

         Bond's infatuation with his car underscores how little the average
man has in common with 007 anymore.  When the Bond movies first appeared in
the early '60s, the average guy might not own a Lamborghini or a Porsche or
an Aston-Martin, but it was still quite possible that he drove a car exuding
a certain measure of style: fins,  a convertible roof, a two-tone leather
interior, fancy hubcaps, perhaps even wood paneling-inside and out.  Because
of this , he could deceive himself into thinking that there was a bit of
James Bond in all of us.  Even if, like me, he was only 11 at the time.

 

            But that was back in an era when men were men and cars were
cars.  Now all cars look the same.  You can see it when the men come pouring
out of the multiplex and pile into their automobiles.  Honda Civics.  Toyota
Corollas.  An assortment of vehicles that are putatively Ram-tough.   And
maybe, for the really daring, a Lexus.  Which looks like an Elantra.  Or a
Sonota.  Or an Acura.

 

                But it doesn't look like an Aston-Martin.

 

               And don't even get me started on the Priuses.

 

              I myself am just as guilty of this failing as anybody.  If
Javier Bardem unexpectedly decided to rake my Sienna with merciless
machine-gun fire, I'd say, "Be my guest.  And strafe the Camry while you're
at it."  I feel the same way about the Nissan hatchback we used to own.  A
beige hatchback.  Torch it, Javier.  I'll lend you the kerosene.   As for
the bland, indestructible Previa we held on to for 18 years, go ahead and
shred it, pal.  Take your time.  Enjoy.

 

                Sadly, this is a society in which few men own a car they
love so much they would fight to avenge its demise.  Men would be more
likely to protect their iPods.  'Skyfall' is the kind of film that reminds
us that there are still some things worth fighting for.  Honor.  Country.
Decency.  Aston-Martins.

 

                  I have owned exactly one car I would kill for.  A few
years back a good friend gave me a vintage 1983 Mercedes.  It was the size
of Finland and sounded like Erwin Rommel and the boys were back in town.  I
loved that car.  My son loved it even more.  He appropriated it and drove it
all around town during his senior year in high school.  It was the coolest
car in the school, and he was the coolest kid in town.  Well, one of the
coolest.

 

               That car is long gone.  It was too old, it kept going on the
fritz, it cost so much to maintain.  So I eventually sold it to a car lover
on Long Island.

 

                 From the moment he entered my driveway, I could see how
much that car meant to him.  He loved that car.  He worshipped that car  He
looked like the kind of guy, who, if Javier Bardem showed up and destroyed
his Mercedes with grenades, bombs and machine-gun fire, he'd literally carve
his guts out.

 

               Purists, take note: The Mercedes in question is the 240D.
Gunmetal blue."




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