Separation Anxiety
How three days
with a rental car rejuvenated my automotive enthusiasm and
concurrently my love for the Challenger
There's really nothing wrong
with the midsize-crossover that is the Dodge Journey; in fact, it
does everything it's intended to quite well. It's safe, reliable,
moderately comfortable, roomy, returns decent gas mileage, is made of
materials that were unknown to many manufacturers as recent as ten
years ago, and (probably) hauls five to seven
people, two of those
being very small children, just fine. Fundamentally speaking, it's a
good car. But if you're reading this, it's pretty likely you
consider yourself an automotive enthusiast,
otherwise known as someone who takes particular interest in vehicles
that are rather good at sacrificing their ability to be a car
in favor of novelties such as lap times or crawling over inanimate
objects. And, unfortunately, that doesn't make the Dodge Journey a
good enthusiast's car.
Yet despite this, it was remarkable how living with one of
these “sensible vehicles” for just three days helped rejuvenate my
love for cars, and especially for my own. It all started with a
usually-run-of-the-mill, though unpleasant, telephone exchange:
“We'll likely have to keep it until
Tuesday or Wednesday of next week.”
“Shit.”
It was the end of March. The Winter
Blues had officially assumed full command of my psyche, the
snow-covered woods and leafless trees a visual reminder of weather
suited best for those who enjoy places the likes of Vail, or whose
favorite company is a hardcover epic beside the warmth of a
fireplace. And, just as things are looking up – a couple days
breaking the seemingly summer-like forty-degree mark – in comes the
Dodge Journey, taking the place of my Challenger during its inpatient
stay at the dealership for transmission surgery. Quoting a lead time
of about a week, the service advisor helped me scoop up a rental in
the meantime, though my initial emotions were very misleading. The
excitement of potential seat time behind the wheel of a different
vehicle wore off very quickly, evaporating entirely when the
Caddy ATS and Chrysler 300 on the Enterprise “menu” faded out of
view as the rep pulled a straight-jacket-white Journey SXT out to be
my temporary wheels. Only a few minutes later, with less than two
miles spent sitting in the driver's seat, the feeling was instantly
recognizable: it was as if the steering wheel was connecting me to
something that wasn't, well, me;
I was no longer driving an extension of myself, but rather simply
controlling a piece of machinery.
To use a worn-out cliché, the Journey,
especially in rental-guise, is effectively an appliance. Its purpose
is A-to-B transportation, nothing more, nothing less. It stirs about
as much emotion as does running the washing machine, which is next to
none, unless you're a dog...which you probably aren't, unless this is
some strange post-script from The Art of Racing In The Rain.
Coincidentally, the aforementioned is a book that fully encompasses
how being a lover of all things car
can seize your body, mind, and soul; driving is wholly capable of
bringing about adrenalin, joy, fear, sorrow, and everything
in-between. To those who love them, cars come alive. Unfortunately,
the loaner did not, but it rejuvenate deep within me the passion that
burns so strong, which was waning amidst the brutal Northeast winter.
Before I knew it
the Journey was gone and my butt was planted in the driver seat of my
Challenger once again, putting me on the receiving end of many more
stares from middle-aged men and feeling much less like I was heading
to pick my kids up en route to drop them off at whatever practice it
is they might be going to. The Journey was hardly with me long
enough to drive it, to get to know it, and to bond with it, let alone
to take pictures of it or do things like calculate the gas mileage it
may or may not have gotten (hey, you gotta wind out the gears at least a few
times). No hurt feelings here, for the time spent in the blandmobile
made driving the Hemi-powered R/T feel infinitely more responsive and
(thankfully) faster than it usually does, and the involvement of the
manual transmission a revelation. However (and this is still much to
my surprise), I now have a deep, new-found appreciation and respect
for the Dodge Journey. Not for the Journey as a model, but for the
specific vehicle I had for three days while my car was at the doctor.
Though driving said Journey failed to stir up any vehicular emotion
in the bottom of my soul, it did revive that which beats for the real
world of automotive enthusiasm; it allowed me to realize, recognize,
and remember just how great the world of cars is, and why I call it
my favorite pastime. It rejuvenated the desire for road trips, for
track days, for car shows, and for the seemingly simple things like
waving at another driver of your same model car as they drive by. A
vehicle may not have a living, beating heart, but a soul it most
definitely has.
These
few days also bump-started my love for the Challenger that has become
a willing and able partner to my road-borne adventures. While
outspoken internet desk-jockeys argue that it's too heavy to be a
good car for enthusiasts, I entirely disagree. Actually, I've always
disagreed, but more so now than ever. It might not have the dynamics
of a Miata, the drama of a 458, the acceleration of a GT-R, or the
road-and-track-compatability of a 1LE, yet it's still a good
enthusiast's car. Not
necessarily driver's car,
but a lot of that is what you make of it; rather, it's what you do
with it that makes it
your vice, your channel, your way of expressing and enjoying
yourself. And though the heavyweight Challenger might not invigorate
you to set the new lap record at Laguna Seca, what it does
do is inspire you, just as any great car or driving partner should:
it makes you want to
drive, crave a reason to go places; it forces you to enjoy the
adventure and not just the destination. And this, friends, is what
being addicted to motor vehicles, to new experiences, to the
culture, and most importantly, what driving, is all
about.
It's easy to lose
way of automotive culture when the weather is shitty, your car is
broken, and your favorite motoring TV show has recently been
canceled. At said point in the year, nothing seems further away than
giving your car a bath, going for a drive, and reveling in the freedom that
there is in making your own adventure. But then, just when you're at automotive rock bottom, something comes
along and it hits you: nothing can replace the passion that is being
a “car person,” because in it comes a one-to-one attachment that
simultaneously helps you see, experience, and take joy in new things,
and also helps you find yourself. If you need to get your enthusiasm
back on track, if you're looking for a way to rejuvenate your passion
for vehicles and for the art of driving, if you've got the Winter Car
Blues, all you need to do is seek your closest rental location.
You'll fall in love all over again before you know it. I recommend a
Dodge Journey.
-Ross, 4/21/15
