I have a recently developed secret heresy. The relatively new onset of this heresy does not diminish the overall problem: I have found myself suddenly, and inexplicably, a major Top Gear Addict (the good, British version, not the crappy American version).
Now, for some of you, Top Gear may not seem even remotely heretical. Definitely not something to be ashamed of. The difference is, you probably haven’t spent large amounts of time scoffing at and dismissing cars valued for their speed. I have.
My entire judgement of cars up until now has been based on the following points:
-4 wheels
-good gase mileage (too cheap to pay for gas)
-ability to go well over 100K miles without major repair (cheap again)
-A/C operates (hot climate background necessitates this)
-Radio operates (tornado alley requires the ability to tune into local radio while driving across Kansas)
I am all but turned on by excellent gas mileage and high reliability. I don’t mind driving, but I don’t enjoy it so much that I can ignore the costs of car ownership (my enjoyment of frugality is greater than my enjoyment of driving). I am small Japanese car material, and I’ve always been okay with this. I am interested in alternative fuel vehicles and don’t mind if they will be less peppy and have top speeds of 60mph. I don’t even mind if they are tiny (as long as I can get in my own suitcases, hell, I drive alone 99% of the time anyhow, so small is fine).
And then came Top Gear.
WTF.
For those of you not familiar with Top Gear, it’s a British programme (note the -e there; it’s been ported to America, Australia and other places, but the original is the best) about speed and cars out of any reasonable person’s pay grade. They test drive on the, and comment in a very British humor way. But this is no episode of Motor Week on PBS. In between these three not-ugly-but-not-overly-attractive British men perform meaningless and insane challenges in various and sundry types of cars (turning regular cars into amphibious vehicles, racing across various parts of the world in cars, sometimes versus public transport). It’s humorous, meant to be funny. But at the heart of the show, there’s car talk. What’s cool and fast and awesome. Oh, and there’s also stars who drive reasonably price cars around a race track (imagine Carmen Diaz driving the British equivalent of a Chevy Cobalt hell-for-leather around a formula 1-esque track).
Um, yeah. Evaluations of Prius gas mileage this ain’t.
How is it that I find myself glued to watching a show about speed and luxury cars? A show that mocks the little Hondas I find appealing? That dismissing gas mileage with derisive snorts? This is not right. This is not me. And yet, this show runs a back-to-back marathon set on a Saturday and I’m glued to the boob tube like it’s a loop of gratuitous rewind moments interspersed with footage of Colin Firth, Zachary Levi and Matthew McConaughey.
I repeat: WTF?
Sure, Jeremy, Hammond and Captain Slow are all hilariously funny with their banter, insults and commentary. And yes, I do find it side-splitting to watch a VW beetle dropped from 1 mile up. But it doesn’t make up for the fact that I’m not a car person. I should NOT be this sucked in. It’s embarrassing. I actually found myself wanting a Mercedes McLaren SLR the other day.
Shame? Right here.
