Suburban Assault

"I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it." George Bernard Shaw

Thanks to Brian for this interesting segue from my last post with a Shaw quote.......

Apart from thinking, one of my favorite things is a segue. For a start, I love the word "segue." I like the fact that it is spelled nothing like it sounds. I love the fact that most people don't know how to spell it, but that I do. I'm amused and a little disturbed that the inventor of the "Segway" felt the need to take the phonetic spelling of this word and turn it into a brand name. Said inventor, Dean Kamen, believes that his two-wheeled electric transportation thingy will someday be to the car what the car was to the horse and buggy.

I don't know which year on the calendar he's expecting that to happen. But, in my neck of the woods, folks are having some trouble giving up their trucks masquerading as SUVs, despite $4 gasoline. Between my house and a one-mile run to the grocery store, my little red Rabbit is almost consumed by fire-breathing Cadillac Escalades, Lincoln Navigators, Chevy Suburbans et al -- each cranking eight cylinders and hundreds of horses. Of the Escalade in particular, I must rhetorically ask whether a more ostentatious/vile/ugly vehicle has ever been created. Oh, yes -- that would be the Hummers. I almost forgot the Hummers. They appear to be reproducing in this neighborhood, and I don't consider it a progressive move in the history of mankind.

Before the red Rabbit, which is being "used" before it is bequeathed to Meredith (our younger daughter) to drive, I had a CUV. Crossover utility vehicle. I took it on a one-year lease to try it. I have never wanted to drive a van or a truck, and had successfully avoided it during the intense soccer travel years with Audi wagons. The Soccermobiles. They were terrific, and I was driving "real" cars. As newborns, both of our girls were transported home from the hospital in Audi 5000 sedans. Five years apart, different model years.

But, being in the land of gigantic, road-commanding, high-sitting truck-like things here in Colorado, I thought I should try it to see if I liked it. The CUV didn't get very good gas mileage, even back in the $3 days; it sat high, and I liked that. But, there was no disguising the fact that it really rode like a truck, despite the leather seats, rear-view camera, computerized data controller (talk about Too Much Information!), etc. It was a very expensive "luxury" vehicle by a Japanese maker that shall remain nameless here. Early into the one-year trial period, I dubbed it "The Beast." I'm not sure it scared anyone on the road except me. It was no match for the bloated Escalades. But, I was holding my own on the highway. A little bit.

Normally, I don't behave like a bleeding heart about excess. I figure, it's between every man and his God what he does with his money and how he impacts his world. I'm not opposed to larger vehicles when family size or occupational work requirements call for it. But, I must admit that I'm really becoming impatient with the all-too-frequent sightings of these big vehicles running around Highlands Ranch when they are occupied by the little mother and no one else. Especially when she is texting while she drives. Or, applying that critical, extra coat of mascara at 55 mph. Or, both at the same time. In front of me on E-470. In my little six-speed, five-cylinder German go car.

Do I take on these paragons of virtue?? Not on your life. Or, mine. It is a Kobayashi Maru - no-win scenario - of incalculable proportion to believe that I can get down on the ground with them and slug it out for highway position. No. Besides the fact that "they" are all so much bigger than me, it is often apparent that these large vehicles are serving as compensation for some other deficiencies of life quality known only to the drivers. And, perhaps their Significant Others. As much as I like to have my rightful place on the road, I'm not going to take on their arrogance AND their therapy issues.

Judging a book by its cover works both ways, as they likely surmise that I am driving this small car because I cannot afford the big one they are driving. That is, if they are thinking at all. It IS probably amusing to see me, my six-foot-four-inch husband, and our almost six-foot daughter emerge from the Rabbit. All at the same time. In the year since we relinquished The Beast and made this car switch, the oil situation has become increasingly unstable. A woman in my hair salon commented last week that we had been "scary smart" for doing it when we did. Well, it had more to do with fitting the vehicle to the need. The residual benefit of saving so much money on gasoline has been a happy coincidence. And, the same for appearing to be disgustingly responsible.

I guess the pig analogy in this post isn't lost on anyone who agrees with me. But, George Bernard Shaw has nothing on my husband -- the brilliant and incomparable attorney-turned-businessman (who probably missed his calling as a college history professor).

He loves to mark the occasion of a mighty fall with this poignant observation: "Little piggies eat. Hogs get slaughtered."