Video Game Cars

There were 3.2 million automobile accidents last year, and that was just at one intersection in Miami-Dade County. Transportation officials are at a lost to explain the cause for the dramatic increase. Obviously, they have not asked Some Cranky Guy, as I can explain it to them easily. It is a design flaw in every new car produced, combined with the prevalence of video games. You see folks, most drivers under the age of 40 and quite a few above that age, grew up addicted to video games. They have glued their heads to monitors for decades as their brain cells were sucked dry by magnetic impulses. Worse, the video games have become too realistic. And every time they crash or get eaten by aliens, they can just start a new game. No consequences. Now, add to that the fact that new cars are built so well these days that when driving even the cheapest model, there is almost no road noise or vibration, to the point it is difficult to feel that you are actually in the real world! And the controls, with power steering, power brakes, power windows, cruise control, power urinals built right in, why, it isn’t much more than a video game! What’s the difference?

Most people can’t actually feel the difference. Until they implant the front portion of their very real car into an oak tree and no matter what they do, they can’t locate the reset key. End of game. Blink.

The solution? Well, I fault the automobile manufacturers, not the video game people. When you drive a car, you are inside a pile of metal, plastic, wires and glass propelling yourself down a concrete/asphalt roadway at speeds upwards to 80 miles per hour! And once you leave the mall parking lot even faster! You really should feel like you are in a car, not in a video game!

Now, when I do what every typical red blooded American man does from time to time, reminisce about all the cars that have been in my life, I realize the solution. You know, when I was driving my cars I never confused the experience with a video game. How could I? Every few seconds I was pulled back to reality!

For instance, my first car was a 1960 Valiant, slant six. Sweet! Except this was the 1970′s and every time I executed a left turn traveling a tad too fast, the battery slid out of it’s rusted container and fell into the steel fan blades, sparks shot from the hood and a noise not totally unlike Ethel Merman having sex with a burrito emitted from the engine. Folks, there is no confusing that experience with a video game.

Or take my 1961 American Motors Rambler. Please. Sweet car, great car, but every now and then the driver’s seat would flip back and I would find myself speeding down the highway laying flat on my back staring up at the ripped headliner. And screaming my lungs out!

The 68 Buick had two neat features. First, the trunk would pop up if you flipped a switch on the dash. Back then that wasn’t standard. I would go down the highway flipping that switch all day long. The other feature was that occasionally when I was fast approaching a red light at a busy intersection I would apply the brakes, and this red liquid would shoot up out of the side of the hood and splash across my windshield. No, it wasn’t window washing fluid. It was brake fluid. But thankfully, this alerted me to the fact that my master cylinder was on the fritz again, and I had time to open the door and tuck and roll into the weeds before the car crashed through the intersection.

I owned two snot-orange colored Fiats. Two seaters. One was for parts. And that wasn’t enough. I had a poor battery connection, so my brother taught me this neat trick – hammer a steel nail between the battery cable and the battery post to improve the connection. It worked like a charm; the car never had a starting problem! However, when an electrical fire developed while the car was in the shop for minor repairs, my mechanic tried frantically to pull the battery cable away from the battery, only to discover that some yahoo had nailed it to the battery! He managed to push the fiat out of his garage before it burned his entire business down. He also banned me and all of my cars from his establishment.

Even today, I drive a 1998 Ford Ranger pick-up truck with over 125,000 miles on it. I love that truck. It is all manual. Manual windows, manual locks, manual shift, manual breast pump. Nothing automatic on that baby! And you know what? When I am bouncing down the highway with 68% of the parts rattling like they got the Holy Ghost and my head banging against the ceiling from time to time – there ain’t no forgetting the fact that I’m in a vehicle driving down the highway. No video game affect there folks.

Peace Out People.

SCG