These days, Real Americans don’t much go to sea to relieve the damp, drizzly Novembers in our souls, but we do like to fire up the muscle Mustang or the F-150 truck with the gun rack and head out on the open road, following our noses and letting the trade winds blow us where they may.
Or at least we used to like it. But with the advent of the abomination known as the “self-driving car,” one of our most precious freedoms is now in jeopardy.
I mean, who asked for this? Communists? Women? (I know, same thing, voting-wise.) Sob sisters, pantywaists, geeks, pencil necks, and nancy boys? I suspect them all. It’s bad enough to climb into the cockpit of a new car these days and be confronted with a home entertainment center on wheels, complete with giant video screens that don’t do a damn thing electronically a 1934 Packard couldn’t do manually back in the day when men were men, women loved them for it, and we had the culture to prove it.
My sentiments exactly. Hat tip: Ingvarius Maximus of LaLaLand who adds "I would go for a 'crawl control' for use in stop-and-go traffic." Right. L. A. freeways don't count as open road. There is still plenty of it here in the real West, as opposed to the pussy-wussy Left Coast, not that any of you should migrate to these parts. Stay on the Left Coast and enjoy your freeways.
If you don't thrill to the romance of the Open Road, you are no true American like Neal Cassady here pictured at the helm of a serious hunk of Detroit iron with one in the hand, four on the road, and a pretty girl by his side:
Filed under: Automotive
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