Save a Horse, Ride a Chevy

Note: This appeared in the Utah Statesman on November 30, 2005

Thanksgiving’s over and final exams are upon us, so that means it’s time for another edition of “Bad News, Good News”.

Bad News: Lake effect snow reared its ugly head the weekend after Thanksgiving.  I hate driving on I-15 even under the best circumstances.

Good News: It’s going to be a white Christmas.

Bad News: The head gasket on my Buick LeSabre is leaking.  The issues I have with driving in the present weather conditions are suddenly compounded.

Good News: Dad handed me the keys to his Chevy Silverado and told me to buckle up.

Suddenly, all my problems are moot.

We in the western United States have an interesting train of thought when it comes to the vehicles we drive.  It comes from living in an area that requires something a little hardier than a compact hybrid car.  The national news may tell us we need to drive fuel-economy cars, but we say that there’s no way that a Toyota Camry is going to get us through Sardine Canyon in a blizzard in the middle of the night.

We like our trucks and SUVs.  We will pay the $2.03 per gallon to fill up those gas guzzlers because we have fun driving them.  Trucks are the noble steeds of today, just like the Old West cowboys saddled up to ride into town or out on the range.

We load the pickup with tents, food and the propane grill to go camping.  When you moved away from home, how many of you were accompanied by a family member with a truck full of cardboard boxes marked “Kitchen” and “Bedding”?  On the flip side, when was the last time you saw a Hyundai Elantra hauling an ATV-trailer out to the sand dunes for Easter weekend?

Trucks and SUVs take us places that no other vehicle can.  For instance, I was scared spitless at driving the freeway in the tons of snow that the weatherman was assuring me was waiting for me.

Once I got behind the wheel of the Silverado I was okay.  I still didn’t know what the driving conditions were going to be like, but having those big tires underneath me and the 4-wheel drive within reach was reassuring.  I felt so much better about getting back to school than I did before.

My only real problem now is parking.  It must be a rule somewhere that student apartment complexes aren’t allowed to have parking lots that anything larger than a pop can on wheels can easily navigate.  It took me a good five minutes to get the Silverado in a parking stall without crunching another car.  It probably wouldn’t do anything to my truck, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on the Geo Metro.

As sad as I am to have to give up my fuel-efficient LeSabre, I am stoked at the thought of cruising down Main Street in the Chevy.  There is a certain feeling of power and adventure associated with driving that truck.

Grocery shopping is no longer just grocery shopping.  I am now the hero come to search for the treasured carton of milk and loaf of bread that the Smith’s bandits hid in the abandoned gold mine on 400 North.  I may have to pay five bucks to get the loot out of the store – I mean the cave – but I am going to win because I am driving my big, bad truck.

Now, if I could just convince people that the Honda Ridgeline is the ugliest truck ever designed by the hand of a motor company.

Now, For a Little Comparison

Before you read this entry, go back and read the "Save a Horse, Ride a Chevy" post below.   Now that you've read the article, read the two responses I got from it.  The first one is an e-mail I received from Cliff Brehan on Dec. 1, 2005.

Even though I own a Honda Ridgeline and I love it I enjoyed your column. I think you nailed one of the main reasons many of us drive trucks. I believe you have a great talent for writing. I hope you use it well. I expect you will be a famous writer some day.

 ( I admit it wasn't looks that attracted the Ridgeline.)

Cliff

The second is a (rather lengthy) Letter to the Editor that appeared in today's (Dec. 2) Statesman:

Dear Editor,

What brilliant journalism! What witty social sarcasm! I am, of course referring to the inspired writing of Chrissy Johnson, "Save a cowboy this season, ride a Chevy". In one single opinion, Chrissy parodies and lampoons several aspects of American life. In case anybody missed it - I've spelled them out below:

1. Our national consumption of oil! Screw Hybrids! Of course, we should all be doing what we can do to conserve oil - although only until the Iraq war is over.

2. Our stupid, romanticized notion of the American West! We're all cowboys! Er… Cowpersons. Of course, this is utter nonsense - the American west is not a frontier. What ranchers are left are largely corporations subsisting on cattle welfare.

3. Our egocentric view of ourselves! We're special - I need a big truck! This must be because it only snows in the west. People in the East and Midwest get by fine with cars in snowstorms - but not in the west! We're special!

4. Our winter driving habits! With 4-wheel drive, I'm invincible! People with 4x4s often forget that 4-wheel drive doesn't help you stop, and hence drive at 45 mph down mainstreet - oops! I just slammed into a car! Blame it on the snow, not on stupid driving…

5. Our silly fascination with ripping up the desert in ATVs! Woo Woo! Like a scene out of Guys Gone Wild! Really, why don't people just go to DisneyWorld?

Congrats again on a great piece! And watch out for Al-Qaida at your local Smith's!

Eric Dinger

Now for my five-minute rebuttal: "People Like You Are the Reason People Like Me Think The World Has Gone to Hell" or Jackass Misses Point (who saw this coming?)

When did I ever mention Iraq or Al-Qaida or any of that other political mumbo jumbo in my article?  And why is this bozo asserting that the West is not a frontier?  Has he ever been in Utah south of Spanish Fork or in Nevada north of Las Vegas (Mesquite doesn't count)?  Has he even seen a cow outside of McDonald's (well, that's a dumb questions, since this twerp is obviously at Utah State and Logan has plenty of family farms around here -- not corporate mega-giants, mind).  And when did I mention anything about sliding down Main Street at 45 mph?  Cruising, yes, but not speeding down like a maniac.  And (this is the crowning achievement) when -- when -- did I ever profess myself to be a journalist?  I'm an opinion writer, the name of my column is "The Way I See It".  The contact info the Statesman puts at the end of my columns say that I am an English major, not journalism.

This brings me to my main point: I'm so stoked that I finally pissed someone off enough to write to the editor and really show the rest of the world how stupid this twerp is.  Some people just cannot distinguish an innocent opinion from politics and that irks me.  Life is not all about worrying about world events and crap like that.  Why can't we just have a little fun without worrying about "liberal-conservative" freak-ish-ness?

I just think it's great that I got two very different responses to this article.  The first one wasn't looking for attention.  It was a discreet note thanking me for my opinion and complimenting me.  The second was a public roast just to get his name in the paper.  It means I have arrived.

I think the e-mail should have got more recognition, since it was more insightful and was actually productive.  The letter was destructive and contentious.  'Nuff said.

Thanks heaven for the little sanity in the world. 

Love from,
Jenny Wildcat