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I got da GM blues
Amongst all the bad economic news out there, most recently the Starbucks closings and job loss, with future massive layoffs at American Airlines, the news of possible bankruptcy fears for General Motors hits home the most. Follow up: There’s no reason why the GM news should affect me, and bankruptcy does not necessarily spell the end for the automaker, but I still feel it in my gut. I feel bad for all the people who are losing their jobs, but hearing about the former icon of the automobile industry in such dire shape illustrates just how far the economy has deteriorated. I don’t feel sorry for GM itself because they created their own dilemma by making the wrong products at the wrong time, and by allowing the product itself to lose some of its sparkle over the years. But in the case of GM, it goes deeper than pure economics, for me it’s primarily emotion and nostalgia that drive my feelings. When I was a kid, the first car I remember cruising around in as a middle-class family in Cleveland, Ohio, was a Chevy station wagon. It was an ugly brown, but for me it was about the coolest place to be. After calling “dibs” on a window we took up our designated places in its huge rear seat, we saw the world of Northeastern Ohio glide by, and took part in the world that was presented to us every time we arrived someplace new. Four kids sitting and even standing sometimes, as we shifted around in our seats. For the first fifteen years of my life, I barely knew what a seatbelt was, other than it was something you found on an airplane. There were no DVD players or Gameboys in the backseat to keep our attention deficit minds occupied, but we did see movies at a time when the highest technology that was ever enjoyed in the car was the speaker hooked onto my father’s window at the drive-in. That Chevy had a radio of course, but because my Father was King of his castle, there was no debate as to which channel we listened to. We didn’t complain about it or whine, that was just the way it was. Kids were loved back then, but we were not the center of attention all the time. In the company of grownups, they interrupted our conversations, not vice versa. We spoke when spoken to. After that Chevy, the auto history of my family follows a long and noble line of GM manufactured products. My father bought Oldsmobiles, Pontiacs, and Buicks. My Father was king and GM provided his carriage. The first time he ever bought a Dodge, it was the beginning of the end of his reign as absolute ruler. He bought a “snazzy” Dodge Dart Coupe for my mother when she got her first driver’s license. His first venture into Ford products came when he bought matching Mercury Cougars for my mother and himself. That was the last car he ever owned. I know to young adults and teenagers, I sound like an old fuddy-duddy, talking about the good old days, but that’s not what this is about, because the old days were not always that good. This is about the realization that nothing is permanent, even something as big and important as your first set of wheels. And that time rolls over all of us, just like a ’63 Impala. All fired up, and no place to race. William S. James, from the backseat |
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