This little piece was written this week in 2007 as a "Half Empty" column, which is a humor column that Dave Stern and I wrote together on a weekly basis for about two years. I got a kick out of re-reading this piece because some of these cars don't even exist anymore.
It's big news in Chicago that Chicago Bears linebacker Lance Briggs smashed up his $350,000 Lamborghini, and fled the scene of the accident. News reports have been speculating why he left the car there, but we have a deeper question. What kind of a man spends $350,000 on a car? Let's just say that without even meeting him in the locker room after a shower, we can tell you a "little" bit about him, and why he feels he needs to overcompensate.
But then again, we're gifted "car personality-ologists."
Of course, anybody can identify the personality of a Lamborghini driver. We can do so much more. Take a look at the different types of cars below and find the kind of car you drive. We’ve tried to isolate one or two things we already know about you when we see you stepping out of that car. We make no judgment on whether any of these things are good or bad.
ACURA—You have at least two words in your vocabulary that most typical American citizens no longer use in everyday conversation: “sharp” and “sporty.” I hope you don’t think I’m being “fresh.”
BMW—“Hey Charles, how did the Dow Jones do today?”
BUICK—You are sick and tired of people saying you’re not happy at mealtime unless you have meat and potatoes. You ate a Tuna Melt at Denny’s last month and nobody even noticed.
CADILLAC—It depends on the model and the neighborhood. Let’s say it’s a classic Cadillac Eldorado and you’re in the suburbs. Are you picking Myrtle up for Bingo this week or is she taking the bus?
CHEVROLET—The Chevy driver runs the gamut, from Camaro (“That pack of smokes in your t-shirt sleeve is covering your tattoo”) to Corvette (“Divorced? You’re kidding!”) to El Camino (“Out of my cold, dead hands”) to Cavalier (“Did someone here order the pepperoni and mushroom?”).
CHRYSLER—A PT Cruiser owner can complete this rhyme: “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the _________.”
DODGE—The Neon owner is the only person you know that still makes Yugo jokes. The Intrepid driver always pays the extra buck or two for the hot wax at the gas station car wash. The Viper owner can easily tick off the names of the planets because the entire solar system revolves around him.
FORD—Is that a fedora we see peeking over the steering wheel of the Crown Victoria or is it somehow driving itself? As for the Mustang owner, we know he is really into cars because he’s on a first-name basis with every mechanic in the area. The Taurus driver is definitely qualified to do our taxes.
HONDA—When I see a Civic driver, we hope we don’t know her because we didn’t get her a graduation gift. The Accord driver has 2.2 children, 3 bedrooms, and 2.5 baths, and if we had to guess at a name we would say “Bob.”
KIA—We couldn’t help admiring your faux Coach purse while we were watching Steel Magnolias. Did you get that at Marshall’s?
MAZDA—The same as the Honda driver, but slightly less interesting. The Miata driver, however, is named Stephanie or Kimberly. That’s just a fact.
MERCEDES—“Hi Hans, vant to vatch ze soccer game mit me? Oh sorry, you’re an American. Listen, I could use someone to represent me—I’m pretty sure this carpal tunnel syndrome is a workplace injury.”
MERCURY—The Grand Marquis driver is a person we can count on for the casserole at the next church potluck dinner, and the Sable driver is definitely not able to help us reset the blinking time on our VCR.
MITSUBISHI—If the Lancer, Gallant, Eclipse and Diamante drivers were movie actors, they would be listed as “Man #1,” “Woman #2,” “Man with Hot Dog,” and “Woman with Child” in the credits.
NISSAN—It’s called a Pathfinder, you paid the extra money for the GPS, and you still got lost. How did that happen exactly?
OLDSMOBILE—What happens when this one breaks down? You’ve gone from Cutlass to Delta 88 and back to Cutlass every four years since 1963, and now they pull the rug out from under you while you’re still only in your 70s. Don’t you hate progress?
PONTIAC—What’s the difference between a Chevy Camaro owner and a Pontiac Firebird owner? The Firebird owner keeps her smokes in her purse.
SATURN—You’re the kind of person who gladly eats a cold steak because it would be rude to send it back to the kitchen. And please. . .don’t tell us you got the manual transmission because you love driving.
TOYOTA—Let me guess what color your Camry is. Is it blue? I’m also guessing that if I ever invite you to a party, you’ll be the first one there. I admire your punctuality.
VOLVO—We understand. We're afraid of our wives, too.
We know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking: What do Mr. Smarty Pants Car Personality-ologists drive? You’ve probably seen people like us on the road. The telltale signs are obvious: the dead look behind the eyes, the sourpuss face that naturally forms when the temples throb for hours a day, the unmistakable look of defeat.
That’s right. We both drive minivans. Does it really matter which kind?
