I read an article in the New York Times today about the demise of the Hummer. General Motors tried to off load the company to China, but the Chinese government apparently felt that Hummers do not represent the auto manufacturing goals of the country. Apparently the Chinese government is all hot to manufacture cheap, small, fuel efficient cars for purchase in country and for export (who knew that would be popular?!?!?). And this means that Hummer is going to die. Well, let me be the first in line to strike a nail into that coffin.
I think that Hummers are fine for combat zones. There it makes sense to be protected by a sturdy frame, built to withstand heavy fire. But the Hummer for civilian use has always seemed like pure ridiculousness. I've heard Hummer owners state that they like driving something so large. I once read a magazine interview in which a 65 year old woman said that she felt safer driving a Hummer because it was bigger than everything else. Um, ok. Did you check out the early 90s Cadillac that gets 15 mpg better fuel efficiency, and sits low enough that you could potentially still pull yourself into the driver seat in five years? Those Caddies are freaking boats! Have you considered that if you happen to cause an accident, you'll probably wipe out the family of four who was unlucky enough to be in a collision with a several ton Hummer? Probably not.
Sturdiness and Safety are just excuses for conspicuous consumption. Hummers are expensive and the general public knows this. Gas to fuel the Hummer is also very expensive, so not only can you show off the fact that you drive an expensive car and have the funds to do so, you can also thumb your nose in the face of the environment with your piss poor excuse for a luxury SUV. Aren't you special.
The Hummer website states that,
"HUMMER's trucks, 4X4 vehicles and luxury SUVs combine off-road capabilities and interior comfort, creating the ultimate in rugged sophistication."
I want to know exactly who these people are who need "rugged sophistication". I've never noticed a Hummer anywhere close to a place that could be described as "rugged", unless there's a portion of Malibu that I don't know about. The incredibly bright Crayola inspired colors of the H2 and H3 models rarely feature the mud, dirt or any other evidence of off-roading outside of Hummer advertisements. Maybe I need to venture outside of the west coast and look for the rugged sophisticates who apparently populate Colorado, Utah and Wyoming and have their mud spattered vehicles hiding in the mountains and canyons.
As for "sophistication", I don't even know where to start. Sophistication is defined by Miriam-Webster online as:
1 a : the use of sophistry : sophistic reasoning b : sophism, quibble
2 : the process or result of becoming cultured, knowledgeable, or disillusioned; especially :cultivation, urbanity
3 : the process or result of becoming more complex, developed, or subtle
If there is one thing the Hummer is not, it's subtle.
Perhaps Hummer purchasers think they are showing their complexity and advanced development when they drive their gargantuan beast of a car. Maybe I've misunderstood Maslow's hierarchy of need all these years and when you reach esteem, you go ahead and fork over some serious dough for a car that can help you get to the top (self actualization) and on the way tells the world you've made it!
For some odd reason, I don't seem to equate Hummers or their drivers with culture or knowledge. Apologies to all those rugged sophisticates in the world. Seems to me that any rational person would read the Hummer fact sheet and do a bit of critical thinking (we could even call it "knowledge increasing") about all the things associated with their purchase. A few things seem like they would immediately come to mind, like sticker price, natural resources used to create a car of that size and weight, amount of fuel used and where fuel comes from, and price of that same fuel and the necessity for owning a car that could withstand warfare in American suburbia. Where is the logic?
I'm sure that Hummer owners probably love their cars. I know few people that don't love what ever they've decided to fork over such a huge amount of money to buy, although I suppose some Toyota owners might challenge me on that right now. I can't help but wonder if Hummer owners would have just as much love for any other make and model of car that is entertaining to drive. Let me suggest a mini cooper (used of course) - fun to drive, not a gas hog and attractive. Quite small, but if you've managed avoiding collisions in a Hummer, you'll probably be just as good of a driver in a different car.
When my niece Lexi was about five, she looked out her car window and upon seeing an H2 said, "That's not a Hummer, that's a bummer". Well Lexi, it looks like there will be a few less bummers on the road in the years to come. And I for one, couldn't be happier.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Making Yogi Proud
I was thinking the other day about how my project would be a lot harder if I didn't live in Corvallis. It's a city that is compact enough that I can get around on bicycle and close enough to farm land and forest that my scenery can change the more I'm willing to pedal. I've got many options for grocery shopping at large chain stores, smaller specialty food shops (my latest love is Rice N' Spice) and an amazing co-op with locations on both sides of town. There are about five second hand shops from Goodwill to Habitat for Humanity, two beautifully run women's consignment shops, used book and music stores and multiple antique boutiques so I still feel like there is enough variety for me to fulfill any sort of consumer desire that could arise.
In early January I popped into OSU Folk Club Thrift Shop, a little second hand shop in downtown Corvallis whose proceeds fund scholarships for OSU students and grants for local non-profit organizations. I was there on a quest to find some cast iron frying pans to supplement my households pans and move us away from bizarro Teflon. The cast iron goods were non- existent that day, but on my second spin around the store (I always take two trips), I noticed a nicely shaped one foot square, eight inch deep picnic basket with a wooden lid. I've been in the market for a picnic basket since last summer. The basket was in good condition, and I picked it up and thought, "This would be perfect to fit on my bike rack!" The only issue for me was the late 70s era floral tole painting on the lid in the dated shades of brown, rust and olive green but it seemed easy to replace with a different painting or collage so I bought it for a cool five bucks and brought it home.
When I got the basket home and really thought about what I would want on a picnic basket I kept coming back to an outdoor scene, something with mountains. Unfortunately, I'm not the most experienced landscape painter and I knew that anything I attempted would end up looking like a kindergarten finger painting exposition. Lucky for me, my mom is an awesome wilderness painter! I brought her the basket on one of my visits home and a few weeks later she returned the bask
et to me with a lovely painting of a mountain range with a field of purple lupin in the foreground. But that is just the outside! On the inside of the lid she painted a beach scene. That picnic basket transformed from being a nice thrift store find to a piece of art! I can't wait to strap it to the back of my bike and go out for some adventures.
The picnic basket re-vamp was a good reminder for me to look for the potential in the things I notice at second hand shops and the stuff I already own. What can I alter and improve to better meet my needs? What can be made beautiful?
In early January I popped into OSU Folk Club Thrift Shop, a little second hand shop in downtown Corvallis whose proceeds fund scholarships for OSU students and grants for local non-profit organizations. I was there on a quest to find some cast iron frying pans to supplement my households pans and move us away from bizarro Teflon. The cast iron goods were non- existent that day, but on my second spin around the store (I always take two trips), I noticed a nicely shaped one foot square, eight inch deep picnic basket with a wooden lid. I've been in the market for a picnic basket since last summer. The basket was in good condition, and I picked it up and thought, "This would be perfect to fit on my bike rack!" The only issue for me was the late 70s era floral tole painting on the lid in the dated shades of brown, rust and olive green but it seemed easy to replace with a different painting or collage so I bought it for a cool five bucks and brought it home.
When I got the basket home and really thought about what I would want on a picnic basket I kept coming back to an outdoor scene, something with mountains. Unfortunately, I'm not the most experienced landscape painter and I knew that anything I attempted would end up looking like a kindergarten finger painting exposition. Lucky for me, my mom is an awesome wilderness painter! I brought her the basket on one of my visits home and a few weeks later she returned the bask
et to me with a lovely painting of a mountain range with a field of purple lupin in the foreground. But that is just the outside! On the inside of the lid she painted a beach scene. That picnic basket transformed from being a nice thrift store find to a piece of art! I can't wait to strap it to the back of my bike and go out for some adventures.
The picnic basket re-vamp was a good reminder for me to look for the potential in the things I notice at second hand shops and the stuff I already own. What can I alter and improve to better meet my needs? What can be made beautiful?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping
When I started my project, my friend Emily asked if I'd read Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping by Judith Levine. I hadn't, and promptly requested it from the library. I was pretty excited when it arrived a week later and I could jump into another person's account of changing their buying habits for a year to help me stay motivated through the first month of my challenge!
Judith Levine and her partner Paul spent 2004 attempting to buy nothing except for food - and the food they purchased had to be as unprocessed as possible. They were both self employed, she as a writer and he as some sort of consultant, and in their mid 50s when undertaking their challenge. While I found a lot of our motivations for undertaking our projects to be similar (wanting to consume less, re-evaluating the need for "new" items, feeling overwhelmed by a culture that rewards buying) the way that she and her partner view their consumption and negotiated 'necessities" is quite different than my thought process.
The author owns a rent controlled apartment in New York City, where she and her partner spend Spring and Fall. Her partner, Paul, owns a small farm house on numerous acres in Hardwick, Vermont where they spend Summer and Winter. Together they own 3 cars. A Honda Civic for the city, a Subaru to get around Vermont in the winter and an old Chevy pickup to use for hauling and yard work in Vermont. To me, the idea of having two homes and three cars for two people seems kind of extravagant when in the next breath the author talks about simplifying life. In the first chapter, Levine talks about the amount of sheer stuff she and her partner have accumulated - so much stuff that they decide that the Vermont house should be remodeled to accommodate their things! She blatantly states that her partner is a pack rat and refuses to get rid of anything. Way to pass the buck, Judith. It was bizarre to imagine a couple "not buying it" while at the same time knowing that they were buying the raw goods to build a house and services of a contractor to do the work. Later in the book there is mention of their three hour Vermont drive to salvage an old claw foot tub from a collapsed barn, but no where else is there any talk about using eco-materials or recycled building supplies, which seems really odd.
While the contradictory elements of this book, like the house remodel, made me exclaim, "WHAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT?????" a few times, it definitely brings up some good points. In NYC, Judith and Paul are able to re-acclimate themselves with all the free entertainment that is available on a daily basis. They go to open mic nights, free concerts in parks and at churches, and spend more time out for walks just for the sake or walking, instead of walking on their way to buy items. While the level of performances they hear is lower than the professional performances they are used to, the speak of the fact that it is reinvigorating to be around people who show such spirit in their amateur work. In Vermont, Judith thinks she has lost her SmartWool socks and has a panic attack, and then goes on to explain how people get sucked into brand loyalty! An affinity for certain brands even has a name, "a lovemark" which is loyalty beyond reason. Another result of the author's project is the fact that she became much more politically informed and involved. Given that she cannot buy books, she starts frequenting libraries all over the boroughs of New York and is shocked by their run down states and minuscule budgets. As it is an election year, Judith uses the time that she would have previously spent shopping, browsing or price comparing online and volunteers for her chosen candidates. As this was a huge election year (Bush vs. Kerry), much of the latter third of the book surrounds the idea of moving from being an American consumer to an involved American citizen.
Perhaps the best take away from this book is the description of what happens when you are in a position of not buying things. When you tell your friends, or even strangers, their response is generally to feel bad and then want to buy something for you because they assume your life is really, really hard! Once the author's friends hear about her project, they call her to offer tickets to performances or sporting events that they cannot use. They meet for walks, but then the friends often offer to treat her to a glass or wine, or a movie. It really all comes down to power - people who consume and have the money to buy things, have power in our society. It's the main way we make our decisions - "Put your money where your mouth is". In relationships, the author's friends feel very awkward that they have the power to buy, while Judith does not, and they try to level things buy purchasing treats for her!
Of course, their is another side to this power struggle. It's the discomfort of telling people that you need their help. Will they think you're incompetent since you don't understand how to maneuver our "no free rides" society? The author speaks about heading out to ski one day and realizing that she has forgotten her ski wax and is carrying no cash! She is completely worried about stopping in the ski shop to ask if she could borrow some and has practiced her speech about not buying things for a year, and how she usually carries her own wax, etc. Surprise, surprise, when the ski shop guy not only says that she can use wax, but actually gives her the wax to keep with a genuine smile. While we can all hem and haw about the fact that people should be competent enough to take care of themselves, when it comes down to it, most individuals will offer help to other individuals.
Over the last 6 weeks of my own quest to buy nothing new, I've found people to not just be supportive, but to actively want to help in my pursuit. After reading about my fascination with lightning jars, my colleague Mary sent me an email saying that she had a few lightning jars she was going to take to Goodwill, and would I want them? Yes please! Another friend, seeing a Facebook note I put out asking if anyone knew where I could find used cycling shoes, sent me an email saying she had a slightly used pair I could have for ten bucks. Yee ha! It can be hard to put yourself in a place where you have to ask people if they can help respond to your needs. You have to trust that your acquaintances, colleagues, friends and family know you well enough to realize that you aren't a mooch (This is not going to work if you actually are a mooch - reciprocation is the key.) There is also the fact that it is so much faster just to go out and buy what you need, all shiny and new. Not buying new means that I have to either plan very far in advance, or not have a strict time line for shopping. I am a person who carries high expectations for myself, and I am quite a choosy shopper. Buying used means that I have to regularly adjust my expectations for how things I need will look. Are the used cycling shoes I acquired the most beautiful shoes I've ever seen? No. I probably wouldn't have chosen the style in a million years. But they serve their purpose beautifully, and when I'm on my bicycle enjoying a February sun break, the furthest thing from my mind is what my shoes look like. I'm just happy to be outside and get to utilize my bike to its fullest.
Judith Levine and her partner Paul spent 2004 attempting to buy nothing except for food - and the food they purchased had to be as unprocessed as possible. They were both self employed, she as a writer and he as some sort of consultant, and in their mid 50s when undertaking their challenge. While I found a lot of our motivations for undertaking our projects to be similar (wanting to consume less, re-evaluating the need for "new" items, feeling overwhelmed by a culture that rewards buying) the way that she and her partner view their consumption and negotiated 'necessities" is quite different than my thought process.
The author owns a rent controlled apartment in New York City, where she and her partner spend Spring and Fall. Her partner, Paul, owns a small farm house on numerous acres in Hardwick, Vermont where they spend Summer and Winter. Together they own 3 cars. A Honda Civic for the city, a Subaru to get around Vermont in the winter and an old Chevy pickup to use for hauling and yard work in Vermont. To me, the idea of having two homes and three cars for two people seems kind of extravagant when in the next breath the author talks about simplifying life. In the first chapter, Levine talks about the amount of sheer stuff she and her partner have accumulated - so much stuff that they decide that the Vermont house should be remodeled to accommodate their things! She blatantly states that her partner is a pack rat and refuses to get rid of anything. Way to pass the buck, Judith. It was bizarre to imagine a couple "not buying it" while at the same time knowing that they were buying the raw goods to build a house and services of a contractor to do the work. Later in the book there is mention of their three hour Vermont drive to salvage an old claw foot tub from a collapsed barn, but no where else is there any talk about using eco-materials or recycled building supplies, which seems really odd.
While the contradictory elements of this book, like the house remodel, made me exclaim, "WHAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT?????" a few times, it definitely brings up some good points. In NYC, Judith and Paul are able to re-acclimate themselves with all the free entertainment that is available on a daily basis. They go to open mic nights, free concerts in parks and at churches, and spend more time out for walks just for the sake or walking, instead of walking on their way to buy items. While the level of performances they hear is lower than the professional performances they are used to, the speak of the fact that it is reinvigorating to be around people who show such spirit in their amateur work. In Vermont, Judith thinks she has lost her SmartWool socks and has a panic attack, and then goes on to explain how people get sucked into brand loyalty! An affinity for certain brands even has a name, "a lovemark" which is loyalty beyond reason. Another result of the author's project is the fact that she became much more politically informed and involved. Given that she cannot buy books, she starts frequenting libraries all over the boroughs of New York and is shocked by their run down states and minuscule budgets. As it is an election year, Judith uses the time that she would have previously spent shopping, browsing or price comparing online and volunteers for her chosen candidates. As this was a huge election year (Bush vs. Kerry), much of the latter third of the book surrounds the idea of moving from being an American consumer to an involved American citizen.
Perhaps the best take away from this book is the description of what happens when you are in a position of not buying things. When you tell your friends, or even strangers, their response is generally to feel bad and then want to buy something for you because they assume your life is really, really hard! Once the author's friends hear about her project, they call her to offer tickets to performances or sporting events that they cannot use. They meet for walks, but then the friends often offer to treat her to a glass or wine, or a movie. It really all comes down to power - people who consume and have the money to buy things, have power in our society. It's the main way we make our decisions - "Put your money where your mouth is". In relationships, the author's friends feel very awkward that they have the power to buy, while Judith does not, and they try to level things buy purchasing treats for her!
Of course, their is another side to this power struggle. It's the discomfort of telling people that you need their help. Will they think you're incompetent since you don't understand how to maneuver our "no free rides" society? The author speaks about heading out to ski one day and realizing that she has forgotten her ski wax and is carrying no cash! She is completely worried about stopping in the ski shop to ask if she could borrow some and has practiced her speech about not buying things for a year, and how she usually carries her own wax, etc. Surprise, surprise, when the ski shop guy not only says that she can use wax, but actually gives her the wax to keep with a genuine smile. While we can all hem and haw about the fact that people should be competent enough to take care of themselves, when it comes down to it, most individuals will offer help to other individuals.
Over the last 6 weeks of my own quest to buy nothing new, I've found people to not just be supportive, but to actively want to help in my pursuit. After reading about my fascination with lightning jars, my colleague Mary sent me an email saying that she had a few lightning jars she was going to take to Goodwill, and would I want them? Yes please! Another friend, seeing a Facebook note I put out asking if anyone knew where I could find used cycling shoes, sent me an email saying she had a slightly used pair I could have for ten bucks. Yee ha! It can be hard to put yourself in a place where you have to ask people if they can help respond to your needs. You have to trust that your acquaintances, colleagues, friends and family know you well enough to realize that you aren't a mooch (This is not going to work if you actually are a mooch - reciprocation is the key.) There is also the fact that it is so much faster just to go out and buy what you need, all shiny and new. Not buying new means that I have to either plan very far in advance, or not have a strict time line for shopping. I am a person who carries high expectations for myself, and I am quite a choosy shopper. Buying used means that I have to regularly adjust my expectations for how things I need will look. Are the used cycling shoes I acquired the most beautiful shoes I've ever seen? No. I probably wouldn't have chosen the style in a million years. But they serve their purpose beautifully, and when I'm on my bicycle enjoying a February sun break, the furthest thing from my mind is what my shoes look like. I'm just happy to be outside and get to utilize my bike to its fullest.
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