Is Your Porsche a VW?

by Roberta Durra

I live in Los Angeles, a place where people are stereotyped as shallow and hedonistic. A place where people believe they are what they drive. In defense of my fellow Angelenos, I think it’s quite natural to become attached to your car, particularly when the better part of each day is spent driving a brisk 5 mph on the parking lot of a freeway.  To many, it’s very important to have a car that speaks volumes to their financial, professional, and social status. Just not to me. I don’t care about cars. There, I’ve said it. All of you who are offended can go back to your cars. Here’s something else for you -- I can’t even tell them apart.

I understand wanting a car to be comfortable, functional and even, good looking… the very qualities I value in long-term relationships and old bathrobes. But unfortunately, it goes much further than that. Here, people demand glamour, excitement and intrigue from their vehicles. And glamour comes with a hefty price tag. Some of the cars I see on the road cost more than the budget of a Spielberg movie. And people want their cars to reflect who they are, or who they want to be. If this is the case, most of the cars I’ve had over the years have reflected the day I got dressed in the dark and accidentally put my dress on backwards and wore it to work. Very embarrassing. Fortunately, I’ve only done that once. Okay, twice. 

Although I am a visual person who notices what people wear, the color and style of their hair, and room décor, I’m sorry, Japan, Germany and Dearborn Michigan, to me, most cars look like containers on wheels, and this is not going to change. I’ve tried sharpening my visual car sense by paying attention to the nuances of shape, hue and style. I even watch car commercials when I could easily DVR right through them! It’s all in vain. Inevitably, whenever I  participate in the car culture it ends up disastrous. Take for instance the second date with my husband when I tried to impress him with my car-savvy. I saw a guy getting out of a really fine looking VW and said as much. Future husband looked momentarily appalled and whispered, “That’s a Porsche".

To have a love of cars, it might help if you love driving. Surprise, surprise, I don’t. Never have. I waited an extra year to get my driver’s license because I didn’t care. When I did have my license it took me a long time to feel comfortable behind the wheel. I didn’t turn left the first year I drove. I just kept turning right until I got where I needed to be.

Although I am ambivalent and somewhat detached from cars, it hasn’t always been this way. My mother owned a 1972, 4-door Oldsmobile, Cutlass. I loved that car and wanted it to be mine. It was the car in which my father taught me to drive. It reflected who I was or who I wanted to be at the time… 
cool, but not too cool.  Bright blue, that baby was fun to drive. The steering had so much play I had to flip the wheel round twice just to change lanes. I begged my mother to give me the Cutlass, but she refused and held firm.Instead, my parents gifted me with the car every18 year-old girl dreams of…a big, honkin’, cranberry Monte Carlo courtesy of my cousin Barry who wanted to get rid of it. I looked like someone from “Jerseylicious” driving around in that thing. I took it to Arizona for college and drove that battleship through the desert. On winter break I left the car and keys with a friend and told him not to drive it.  Upon my return, Ol’ Monte was totaled, and I was thrilled.

Since then I have driven; a Mazda that blew it’s transmission the day the warranty ended, a blue Honda Civic with a red driver's door that I donated to charity, a Volvo wagon that morphed into a sticky kids’ playroom strewn with juice boxes and food wrappers I was too tired to dispose of, and a Ford Truck that I backed in to my neighbors garage every morning when I pulled out in the back alley.

Recently though, I’ve caught a bit of my fellow Angelenos car mojo. My husband and I bought a Volkswagon GTI.  It’s slick, quick, has great handling, gets good mileage and did I mention it’s quick???!!! (I’ve since learned it’s the most ticketed car in Los Angeles). The only drawback is that my husband wishes it was a stickshift instead of my preference - automatic. It also has a sunroof, a navigation system that I swear I’ll figure out one day, and by gosh, it’s quick. I think I mentioned that.

I was filling it up the other day and a trendy looking guy eyed my car.

He said , “VW’s are still my favorite cars. Do you like yours?”

 I glanced at his car. It was a white VW. He nodded knowingly. I was accepted! I was about to engage in car talk!

“Yea, it’s comfortable”, I said. He smiled.

“And, they look good”, I added, looking at his car. His eyebrows rose slightly.

Then I gave him the clincher, “And it’s FAST!”

“They are. Yours is a stick, huh?” he said.

Dammit! As soon as I tell him it’s an automatic I’m going to lose all street cred! “Uh… no, actually this is my husband’s car so it’s an automatic. He doesn’t want to “work” at driving. He’s not a car person.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess some people just aren’t car aficionados”

“Except us VW people!” I replied, earnestly.

Again, he smiled. Suddenly I belonged. I had just had a pleasant conversation with another VW enthusiast and he knew I was his match. I wanted to spit tobacco or elbow him in the ribs – just to solidify our new car camaraderie, but he was already in the front seat of his VW driving off.

As he sped away I saw the emblem on the back of his car, the one that kind of looks like a peace sign. The one that said his white VW was in fact, a Mercedes.