In response to my coworker’s post, regarding implements of the vehicular nature, I feel the need to expound on a few things.
I’m sure that everyone has noticed how cars have changed over the years, from gas-guzzling, EPA-ignoring, powerhouses to quieter, more efficient luxury condominiums of the automobile world.
But the part that I realized the other evening, is not only have the vehicles themselves changed, but their names have as well.
Cars used to have powerful sounding names, with lots of hard consonants that seemed to indicate the power under the hood. Corvette, Mustang. If the names didn’t sound rumbly and muscly in their overuse of hard sounds, the words themselves denoted the raw, uncontrollable power of the elements or of nature, including the Thunderbird, or the Cobra.
It was an impressive time. Cars were muscly, and car names were equally so.
Now, with EPA regulations, gas prices rocketing out of control, and people wanting the same ammenities in their cars as they have in their houses (A DVD player in a car for Chrissake?), the vehicles have changed, as well as the names.
More often, the names are completely sterile and clean sounding, like some annoying Claritin-D commercial. The Breeze, Neon, and of course, who could forget the Mercury anything, the prime example of the slow-moving granny car manufacturer with the fluffy suspension, somehow making the passengers feel as though they are no longer driving, but floating lacadasically above the road. And the Mercury Sable? It’s like a deer, bouncing happily through the woods. I’m sorry, cars do not eat grass.
Why not just name a car the Chevrolet Molasses?
Even the best example of vehicular penis compensation is not safe from this new trend. The Hummer, one of the largest, most fuel-inefficient, most obnoxious, and downright irritating examples of our society’s complete disregard for the environment, other drivers, or sanity, doesn’t growl, or thunder, or even purr, according to the name.
It hums. Like a pleasant little tune dancing about your head. Or a hummingbird, which flits and floats and sways with the wind.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the Hummer does not flit. It does not float. And it sure as hell does not sway. Except maybe after an accident.
Where’s the truth in advertising regarding car names? I suppose I could spend my time forming a Political Action Committee to push new laws through Congress demanding this, but I suppose there are better missions to undertake. In the meantime, I’m going to head home in my Ford… *Shudders* Focus, as if the car will bring my life into clarity, and to top it off, take me where I’m going.
Until we meet again.
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