Let me preface this by saying that I, Sydney John Pellegrino, am the proud/ashamed owner of a 1992 Hyundai Stellar. When I put the keys in the ignition, the engine keels over like a Portugese soccer player after just having been breathed on by an opponent (that's right, I'm talking to you Ronaldo, Queen of the Pussies). And while the Hyundai lineage seems to have been bolstered, upgraded, ENHANCED, in recent years, I am well aware of the fact that 1992 was not a good year for the Stellar vintage.My car is a shit box. That's what I'm trying to say here.
Still, regardless of my vehicle's shortcomings, that doesn't give anyone, hummer or hybrid alike, to cut me off, ridicule me, and ride me from behind like Roseanne Barr on Tom Arnold. This includes you, PT Cruisers, who as of late, have been the most egregious offenders in terms of road ridiculousness. I can't count on any of my fingers or toes, how many times I've been violated by the over-aggressive behavior of the drivers of these cars. It's a disturbing trend, one I think I've only begun to comprehend.
I think the idea of what the PT Cruiser represents (or fails to represent) is at the root of the problem.
When a potential PT Cruiser driver - from my experience, typically a middle-aged, single woman - shows up at the dealership to pick out the little bundle of joy, they see a car that reminds them of their childhood. A car their father drove. A car from old sepia-toned photographs with plenty of flannel-clad folks. A car whose backseat saw more action than Rambo and Liberace combined. They see a time when things were easy - including themselves - and life hadn't quite beaten and mashed them into a puree comprised of post-divorce melancholia and unfulfilled promises. The PT Cruiser, for them, is the good times that have all since dissipated after losing custody of the kids.
It's only after a few weeks of driving that these poor, poor souls come to the realization that these cars don't immediately drive onto the set of Bugsy when you turn over the ignition. The gas mileage is shit. And that their parents are still dead. As is the hope of jump starting their lives with the promise of a new version of something old. The retro wet dream that so many baby boomers still fill their huggies with. The big disappointment.
And this says nothing of the men who drive these cars. But I'll save that for another time.
R.I.P. Hyundai Stellar. You were too good for this world.
And that's how it is,
Syd
Still, regardless of my vehicle's shortcomings, that doesn't give anyone, hummer or hybrid alike, to cut me off, ridicule me, and ride me from behind like Roseanne Barr on Tom Arnold. This includes you, PT Cruisers, who as of late, have been the most egregious offenders in terms of road ridiculousness. I can't count on any of my fingers or toes, how many times I've been violated by the over-aggressive behavior of the drivers of these cars. It's a disturbing trend, one I think I've only begun to comprehend.
I think the idea of what the PT Cruiser represents (or fails to represent) is at the root of the problem.
When a potential PT Cruiser driver - from my experience, typically a middle-aged, single woman - shows up at the dealership to pick out the little bundle of joy, they see a car that reminds them of their childhood. A car their father drove. A car from old sepia-toned photographs with plenty of flannel-clad folks. A car whose backseat saw more action than Rambo and Liberace combined. They see a time when things were easy - including themselves - and life hadn't quite beaten and mashed them into a puree comprised of post-divorce melancholia and unfulfilled promises. The PT Cruiser, for them, is the good times that have all since dissipated after losing custody of the kids.
It's only after a few weeks of driving that these poor, poor souls come to the realization that these cars don't immediately drive onto the set of Bugsy when you turn over the ignition. The gas mileage is shit. And that their parents are still dead. As is the hope of jump starting their lives with the promise of a new version of something old. The retro wet dream that so many baby boomers still fill their huggies with. The big disappointment.
And this says nothing of the men who drive these cars. But I'll save that for another time.
R.I.P. Hyundai Stellar. You were too good for this world.
And that's how it is,
Syd
And here is the rest of it.
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