I like old cars like AMC Pacers. They looked like cars The Jetsons would drive. I’d honestly rather have a 1975 AMC Pacer (with all its infamous eccentricities) than, say, the latest BMW. I think it’s because I’m a bit dubious of new things.
New cars do not interest me. They’re a lot of money and a lot of upkeep, but mostly they have no character. You get these people who are defined by their cars, as if they think that owning a particular model will somehow define them.
It’s a car. Get over yourself.
Unless my teeth rattle together when it hits 60 mph then it’s just no fun. Sure, new cars glide. You can sit in a new car and let it transport you to your destination. But where’s the thrill in that? I drive a rickety Fiat Punto and it sometimes feels like I’m in hostage negotiations with it when trying to get myself anywhere. It doesn’t excel in its purpose; it is capable of doing what I need it to.
I’m an all-rounder. I’m capable. Do you remember sitting next to someone at school who excelled at everything? It was nauseating. For the record I’m sorry if I am describing you here but I’m sure you can take comfort in your brilliance. I used to think that only the really gifted people get anywhere in life, but I’ve since realised that we can all get places, some of us just need to make more effort.
My point is: if you’re an AMC Pacer on the freeway of life, chances are, you’re still going to get where you’re going to. Maybe you won’t get there as fast as Mr BMW with all his bells and whistles, but you’ll probably get there. Besides, chances are for these people there’s always going to be somebody in an old relic not too far ahead of them that they’ll need to sit behind anyway.
