Of Love and the Big Three

At the first mention of the letters G and M, I think about my parents' Oldsmobile station wagon, which after about 3 years, would start if you poured gas directly into some hole in the engine. Free association reminds me of the Ford Taurus that seemed like a spaceship at the beginning, but had a leaky sun roof that would never have protected from the vacuum of space. I then remember the Datsun 210 that outlived the family dog by a significant margin, and went on to be my sister's mode of transportation for her whole time in high school.

When I was in high school I had a sclerotic green-and-rust '78 Volvo 240 station wagon with faux sheepskin seat covers. No style, but it ran great and was a perfect buffer against the teenage idiocy of which I was quite guilty. A good, safe first relationship with the road.

The best car I ever owned was an '03 Mazda Protege5. I took that car everywhere, including the Northwest Territories over 400 miles of gravel. It was a little loud on the highway, but it ran and ran and ran. It was comfortable, had a good sound system, and was perfect for the city or for camping in the boonies. I'm glad that my brother is now its proud owner. The Mazda was clean and smooth, but lacked the soul of some other cars I drove. It was the car you'd take home to your parents, while you quietly mourn the bad girl from Detroit that they'd never approve of.

But the car I loved the most was the '86 Pontiac 6000-LE that I received from my grandmother, 12 years old, with 26,000 miles on it. College road trips were shaped and defined in that car. Ohio to Toronto by way of Niagra Falls. Ohio to Colorado in the middle of the night. DC to Portland Oregon and back, with some pizza delivery peppered in there. Ohio to DC through rain, snow, trucks and the jersey walls of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Midnight runs to Denny's. Over about 4 years and another 25,000 miles the car needed a new radiator, thermostat, A/C compressor, engine suspension and struts, and 2 new tires after a blowout in South Dakota due to ruined alignment from driving too hard over the Bitterroot range of Idaho. A friend miscalibrated the spedometer by pinning it against the 85 for hours across Nebraska in the middle of the night, so I had to keep it at 55 to really be going 65. But I loved that car. My love for that Pontiac was the passionate love of a mutually abusive relationship.

In recent times, as a business traveler I've become a connoisseur of the American rental car fleet. My options range from the square, though well-appointed Chevy Malibu, to the chintzy, plasticky Chrysler Sebring, to my favorite, the leather clad sexy-shaped Pontiac G-6. Oh, and the occasional Hyundai.

My observations are that some of the cars that are made here in America by Americans working for American companies (an increasingly rare combination) aren't so bad. The G-6 handles great, has tons of room, gets over 30 mpg on the highway, has excellent pick-up, and feels well-made. I've even read that Fords and some GM models are now on par with Toyota and Nissan in terms of initial quality. Chryslers, on the other hand, are terrible buzzboxes not worthy of ownership by anyone other than Avis.

So today, the CEOs of GM, Chrysler and Ford are asking for a $25 billion loan to keep making their products. They argue that their continued existence is all that stands in the way of the rust belt getting rustier, of our national security for building the vehicles of war, of national pride. I think of my own likely future decisions in car purchasing. I love renting a G-6, but I'll buy a Toyota Camry. Is $25 billion going to change that? Doubtful.

Is $25 billion going to keep the good people of Michigan gainfully employed making a product that the world demands at a premium? I think not.

Could that $25 billion be better spent on enhanced unemployment benefits, job retraining, tax incentives, business incubator programs, and other ideas? I think so.

If the Federal government's most pressing concern at the bankruptcy of the Big Three is that of the long-suffering workers on the lines of Michigan, Ohio and elsewhere, why not help them directly? Shouldn't ravenous long-term junkies who think only of their next fix of corporate earnings go to rehab, find God, and maybe go on to produce something better? That's far preferable to giving them yet another injection of unfettered capital. Isn't that true even if they have people to take care of? Maybe the plant workers of the midwest would be better off as wards of the state, rather than living under the roof of a long-neglectful, absent parent company.

I love you Pontiac, but baby, you have to change before I come back home.

In the wilderness

I'm told every spring of my ancestors wandering across the barren Sinai desert for 40 years on their way to the promised land. The story talks about those peoples' missteps, incurring the wrath of their stuttering leader when they got impatient and started worshiping a golden calf instead of the Guy in the Sky. The people grew agitated in their hunger and thirst, their loss of place. They were people after all, and living in such austere conditions after the fleshpots of Egypt (what's a fleshpot?) must have had a despondent post-apocalyptic feel to it.

Of course, political metaphors can be drawn from this story. Much has been said of the GOP's newfound residence in the wilderness, and of a new generation of Democrats strolling bravely into their own just future. It wasn't quite 40 years ago that the story was reversed, of course, but let's just talk about now. I like that story better.

It is also true that those in the wilderness and those in the promised land aren't a different people; they are Israelites or they are Americans who suffer different fates depending on their spots in history. Sometimes you're just born at the wrong time.

It is also true in both cases that fate isn't the only factor in play. The Israelites could have resisted temptation to their basest instincts, as could those elements of the Right who today insist that their way is the only way.

Even today, between overtures of good will towards the new administration, the new wanderers whisper about Marxism, even National Socialism. (At least we waited until the Iraq war to label Bush a Fascist and a Nazi, though neither is the case) Such language ensures that no progress to their cause will be made.

The modern GOP and the ancient Israelites had a choice to align themselves with their people or their faction, and in both cases they chose the latter.

Moses isn't allowed to enter the green pastures of Canaan, and all those who had known the land of their servitude had to die so that a new generation that had known only freedom would be grateful to their Creator for the abundant land that stretched before them; a promise for all time.

At the end of the Exodus story, Moses is up on a mountain, looking over the land of his people. He is forbidden to tread on that territory like everyone else who had known Egypt, but God let him have a look before giving him the gentle kiss of death and prophet status for all time. After so much anger, conflict and suffering, Moses had to go before progress could be made.

There are lessons for all of use here in America to take from that story. At some point we are all in the wilderness, at some point we have a choice to pursue our own interests or to pursue the greater good. I for one hope that this wilderness-promised land cycle can be broken and that we can work together to make this land as great as its promise. It's not us-vs-them. We're people who must choose our better nature despite circumstances, good or bad.

It actually happened

2004 was not a good year, especially to be living in DC. America was at war, people were certain that the next terrorist attack would occur at any time; after all, they were happening in Europe and Asia. The country was heading into an election between the most palatable of a cadre of isolated, intimidated and confused Democrats and an incumbent president who had boundless authority and a sweeping vision that seemed destined to be pursued ad infinitum. The Democratic convention tried to put its best face on an anemic candidate and a fearful electorate. A vote for Kerry was a vote against Bush and little else. There was no Democratic platform beyond getting the other guys out of office. The Republican convention had a long list of speakers holding forth on security, strength and resolve to the adoration of millions who viewed their life in the exurbs as under siege by mysterious and menacing foreign powers. They were going to win, but not by much.

In the middle of this uncertainty and polarizing rhetoric Barack Obama took the stage in Boston, putting all of the issues of the day aside, providing a vision of how things should be. It was probably the most inspiring political moment of my life. The only visions I'd heard that season were military superiority on one hand, or wresting control from the militaristic on the other. There was no should, and plenty of must that no one could agree upon. I said then that I wanted that guy to be our next president. My mom and grandma said they were moved, but that he wasn't ready, wasn't vetted, wouldn't be accepted by the party or the country. Today they're happy to be wrong.

I believe that this country is in the beginning degrees of the largest 180 it has ever made in its 230-odd years of history. We are about to shift from the most rightist agenda to possibly the most leftist in the space between election day and inauguration day. But we're going to have to look beyond that. I got the feeling from most quarters that the country is ready for this, whatever it may entail. It's ready to move away from manufactured scandal, fear and vitriol. McCain's concession speech last night was as magnanimous towards his opponent as he could be. The promises of unity felt genuine. These aren't campaign promises. This is something bigger.

At the same time, I heard interviews of people leaving a Republican senator's return party saying things like "tonight is another 9-11", and "this is the end of America as we know it." There is nothing that can be said to sway the thinking of people with beliefs like that. Their thinking has been molded by the prepackaged reality of certain media outlets, they have been scared into the fallacy that the election of one presidency or another threatens the very existence of our republic. I rejected that when people said it about Bush in '04 and I reject it now. We will move on despite, or even because of our disagreements.

It's my sincere hope that this election isn't viewed as a clear mandate for the Democratic brand, but as one that meets the urgent demands of Americans. My beliefs and those of everyone else are only reconciled when we work in the system, where we can agree on the common rules of the game. We will never be great again if we don't recognize this truth and see something bigger than ourselves and our necessarily narrow individual stakes in the way the world is. Enlightened self-interest isn't enough to ensure an efficient government, a strong economy, or a vibrant society.

When Obama said he would be the president of all Americans I hope he meant it, and I hope America allows for it.