Downsizing the Family Car
by J.G. Fabiano
I must admit that I miss the '80's. The time when one's charge cards opened the world to all of us in the middle class. The time when we were finally able to buy everything we saw in James Bond movies. In the '80's we took extravagant vacations as if we could afford them. We bought clothes only at the most elegant and exclusive stores at the mall. We bought homes every two years until it appeared we were all destined to live in an estate. Only the most technological foreign built automobiles were allowed in our garages.
But, as we all know now, we were about to face reality. The ever- growing credit ceilings went the way of the ever-growing real estate values. The new age of wealth gave way to the age of survival. The hopes and dreams of the new upper middle class were replaced by the fight to simply remain in the middle class. Many of us lost everything. Foreclosures and bankruptcy became the most common legal practice of our decade. The only people who seemed to prosper were the lawyers and the collection agents.
My situation was not unlike most. I was fortunate enough to still own a small home and have a family intelligent enough to realize what hard times meant. Our major sacrifice was the loss of one of the American dreams. The ownership of a state of the art, computer equipped mega- machine. A 1988 Mercury Cougar limited edition. That car could do everything from telling you the temperature in the back seat to displaying the time in Northern Iraq. Of course, it gave me more trouble than any car I'd ever known, but that is another story. We were forced to trade down. As my wife would say, we couldn't have gone lower. We bought a Hyundai. In fact, we bought two Hyundai's, one for her and one for me.
At first, when we drove the cars home I didn't see any change in my wife. I assumed the loss of a luxury car was not a threat to her psychological well being. Boy, was I ever wrong. I first saw a change when I noticed that she never opened the shades over the windows of our house that overlooked the new cars. When I asked why, she just looked at me blankly. Then, when I opened the shades, I noticed that she usually left the room. Strangeness had come to the Fabiano family.
When we went out, I also observed that she always looked around before she entered the car. After she got in, she sat low in the seat. In fact, when she saw someone she knew, she literally disappeared. I finally approached her concerning this newest of problems. At first, she said nothing. But then, as though a dam had broken loose, she told me of her fear of the new car, her Hyundai-phobia.
She told me that when I first brought the car home, she thought that she could remove all of the Hyundai signs displayed on the car. Her idea was that the car basically looked good but that the name embarrassed her more than the car itself. She was disappointed because the name Hyundai appeared over 22 times on the car. From the hubcaps to the steering wheel, the Hyundai people wanted to make sure you knew exactly what you were driving.
The first year was the worst. Once, when we met some friends for dinner, she made me park as far away from the restaurant as possible. This seemed strange to me, especially since it was the middle of January. After dinner, to my wife's chagrin, we all walked back to the same parking lot. We walked up to their BMW and stood there until it was obvious that they had driven out of sight. Humbly, we walked back to our shame.
Another time we were invited to a party and my wife again made me park our car at the end of the driveway and wait until no one was around to see us exit. Considering that the drive was filled with Mercedes, Volvos, and one Rolls Royce, I agree with my wife's strategy. The party went along fine, until around 11:30, when the host asked that the owner of the Hy-Un-Dai please pull toward the side of the driveway so that someone could leave. Naturally, it was the owner of the Rolls.
For the good part of that year, it seemed as though we owned the only Hyundai in town. But then, we started noticing more and more of them on the road. In fact, it seemed that the only new cars on the road were Hyundai's.
After the second year, my wife finally got used to the idea that we were the proud owners of the cars. Her business was also taking off, for which we're both thankful. She tells me that her success will become even more evident when she finally gets rid of the car that represented her concessions to the national recession. I always tell her that the car gave us almost three years of dependable travel. She admits the thing drives well in the snow. I'm not sure, but I think she even once said that it was "cute".
In early summer, my wife is planning to trade her Hyundai for a more prestigious automobile. As for me, the excesses of the 1980's taught me many things. One of which is that even if I ever become wealthy, I'll always drive a Hyundai.
Comments
writers@mcint.com
Last Updated: August 11, 1996