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| Maroon Bells from Hayden Peak in Snowmass |
I drive a Subaru. If that just made the person next to you snicker, continue reading because the rest of this blog post is about them. If that made you snicker, well, what you do next is entirely up to you.
I am not really a “car guy”. I do not have the desire,
bandwidth, or financial wherewithal to care much about what my car says about
me, my personal style, my political leanings, or my career choices. I like a
car that gets me where I need to go in all weather conditions without fail; that
doesn’t break down much and isn’t expensive to fix when it does; and that is
reasonably parsimonious on petroleum. My current Subaru has saved my life more
than once and delivered me from one end of Vermont to the other in some
seriously treacherous ice storms. Yes, in Vermont we have ice storms, as in ice
falling from the sky and accumulating on the ground, the trees, the roads, our
vehicles, on ourselves, and everything else. My Subaru may actually have
snickered at the ice storms.
My vehicle has about 120,000 miles on it. I recently asked
the head of service at the nearest Subaru dealer what I should expect will go
wrong with my car in the next year, just so I’m ready. His response: nothing,
my car is in great shape and should last a long while. I promptly took the
vehicle to the local super duper car wash to give it the all-over shine that it
deserves.
Since moving to Basalt, Colorado, I’ve spent the lions share
of my working life commuting “up valley” to Aspen and Snowmass for work. In my
Subaru. Famously, the one road in and out of the Roaring Fork Valley, Colorado
Highway 82, is exceptionally busy with traffic that often is shockingly bad.
The drive from my home to the Aspen gondola, for example, is 18 miles and in
summer can take as long as 75 minutes, and that’s when the highway is not under
construction. What this means is that I have plenty of time to watch and
consider people’s behavior while driving. In fairness, the nature of the cost
of living and housing in particular in the Roaring Fork Valley means that the
workforce that makes the world turn here overwhelmingly drives to Aspen from
towns far afield, and the result is the terrible congestion and some pretty
aggressive driving by people anxious to start the clock on their work day.
Sympathetic though I may be to my fellow commuters, I do
wonder whether it is my choice of vehicle that causes people to drive
particularly aggressively near and around me. Is there something about a Subaru
(especially one with a VT sticker on it) that implicates the self-esteem or
self-confidence of people who choose to drive very large, gas guzzling
vehicles? Does it hurt the ego of a gentleman driving a very large, super-duty,
white pickup truck to be “stuck” behind my supremely practical vehicle even
when I am driving at the same speed as everyone in my lane? Do people who spend
far too much money on finicky, fancy SUV’s with custom license plates that live
in their garages in Aspen during the 45 weeks a year when they are not in
residence feel that having to navigate around my Subaru in traffic is somehow
beneath them? Insert the etymology of the word ‘pretentious’ here.
Although there are plenty of moments when I just extend my
middle finger as these people find salvation in their aggression, I do wonder
about conducting an experiment. I’d like to drive different vehicles on the
same busy route, at the same time of day, on the same day of the week, at the
same speed, and in the same lane, and see if it would make a difference to the
way people respond to me. To be clear, I have spent a lot of time driving
around the valley this summer in a very large super-duty diesel pickup truck
for work, so though my speculation is based on anecdotal experience there
definitely is a basis to the hypothesis.
More entertaining than scientific, I occasionally daydream
about putting up a big sign on Highway 82 that says “Freudian Therapy, next
exit”. I also consider creating an Instagram page that functions like a wall of
shame for people whose conduct while driving on 82 is a sign of the demise of
Western Civilization: “This week’s winners of the Roaring Fork Freudian Therapy
Associates gift certificates are [drumroll, please] … the gentleman in the
white Ford F-150 Raptor with Texas license plate LVEGUNS and the woman driving
the baby blue Bently Bentayga with Colorado license plate ASPEN-22. You can
pick up your winnings at the Pitkin County Sherrif’s office and then schedule
your therapy appointment.”
Ok, ok. There are some very nice, very considerate people
who get stuck in traffic with me. Some of them are even courteous enough to
maintain a respectable distance and let others in-and-out when the highway
merges into one lane near the Aspen airport. And occasionally, one of those
people will waive just like a Vermonter when I let them in front of me. Hmm,
maybe they are Vermonters; or perhaps Maine.
I need new tires for my car. My plan is to make
it through the scorching hot summer on my current Baldinis and buy new hoops in
the fall before the first snow. And when I do, I’ll be confident that my Subaru
will get me to-and-from the mountains safely and easily. And if there are
people around me who really need therapy to deal with the impact that driving in
my vicinity has on their delicate psyches, maybe I’ll just extend my finger in
my mind only. Then again …
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