As I walked my dog past a parked Hummer H2, black with custom chrome wheels, I realized the car is not a car. It’s a fantasy. You step into the H2 and you can’t help but feel that you’re a superhero in an action film. In other words, you’re play-acting, like a six-year-old kid playing cowboys and Indians, only you never grew up.
But why not? I quickly grew bored after I bought my 1999 Volvo S70. I bought it used in 2001 and still have it, but there’s little emotional rush in owning it. Why not pay for a car that makes you smile every time you sit inside it? While the gas-thirsty H2 is too much of a macho elephant gonad swinger for my tastes, I wouldn’t mind living the fantasy of driving a supercharged “Space Blue” Mini Cooper. To maximize the car’s fun factor and save $1,200, I’d probably have to get it in a manual. I wonder how long before I got sick of shifting gears and sitting inside a car that, based on the disparity between my 220-pound frame and the car’s small proportions, renders me looking like a circus clown.
In my imagination, I’ve already lived out the fantasy, taking it to its logical conclusion. I guess that’s why I still have my Volvo. Playing out the fantasy beforehand just saved me about 25,000 dollars.