Where Rubber Meets The Road
Hey all you frustrated masters of the muscle car out there - welcome back to the days of affordable gasoline! - Yes, it's true that as of this posting, gas has now become not just affordable, but probably under-valued when adjustments for inflation, etc. are factored in. It's ironic and vexing that the price of gas has come down so dramatically just when we as a nation have begun to reflect that much of our idealized car culture was ripe for a reassessment. Well, we as a nation of taste shaping consumers have managed to 'reflect' in an acutely manifest way, if the latest profit reports from Detroit's big three are any indication. Over the last couple of years, I've been weening myself from car dependence and relying more on pedal power, riding my bike to work at least 50% of the time. In so doing, I've become predictably self-righteous, an unfortunate by-product of progressive thought. While the roads are still clogged with emission-spewing gas guzzlers, It's been clear to me that others have adjusted their habits to the new ethos as well. The Toyota Prius was a rare curiosity just a couple of years ago. Now, here in San Francisco, the Prius is so ubiquitous and noble that it enjoys the kind of reverence you'd expect to see reserved for a beloved local mascot. But now and then, I find myself in deep communion with my inner gear-head. Recently, I thought my 12 yr old son might enjoy watching a movie I first saw at his age and had fond memories of. As the opening sequence of American Graffiti rolled, I was blasted back to a time and place with the ferocity of a twin cam V8...opened all the way! American Graffiti chronicles the activities of several teenagers in a quintessentially California - American town as their lives intersect over the course of a single summer evening. But it's the cars in the film that I was (both then and now), thoroughly romanced by. Then again, every sequence that took place in a car interior had the added intrigue of an utterly captivating soundtrack; early '60's rock-n-roll, courtesy of otherworldly DJ Wolfman Jack, who offered a fictionalized portrayal of himself. Man, do I miss that perfect cultural cocktail of music, muscle cars and elusive sex that, to a considerable degree, defined my youth. That might not be entirely accurate. I came of age in the mid '70's, a decade and a half after the era depicted in the movie. Even though there was still a muscle car around here and there, my family had 'gone Volkswagen'. That left me stuck cruising on a Saturday nite in my mother's VW 412, a car so categorically un-sexy that my only option was to embrace its quirkiness by attaching one of those oversized novelty wind-up keys on the hatchback window. But because I was only removed by a decade from the glory days of gearheads, their cultural mark pervaded my coming of age, even as I cruised embarrassingly with my street-legal wind-up toy. There was a moment somewhere between the waning of muscle car culture and my own teen years that I felt the power and exhilaration of a souped up sedan. I was 8yrs old and visiting some family friends with my parents. There was a young adult gearhead son living in this household who'd blazed some trails in the nearby woods big enough for him to navigate his '57 Chevy through. In 1968, no one thought it was a bad idea for kids and adults alike to pile into a '57 Chevy with an incurable gearhead at the wheel and careen through the woods at, oh, 45-50mph, taking hairpin turns all the way and narrowly escaping head-on collisions with old growth fur trees. So, with my parent's blessing - and their companionship for that matter - we did just that. I felt alive! Hey, Whatever Happened To...feeling alive? A question to contemplate as we listen to 'All Things Considered' from behind the wheels of our non-descript, fuel efficient, safety rated conveyances.Peel out,
Pete
Love the new look!
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