Head down, fingers maniacally keyboarding my iPhone. Embroiled, as we baby boomers are seemingly always wont to be, in something we are sure is so earth-shatteringly important that it simply cannot wait. Not paying the slightest attention, as always, to anything around me, I spot a burgundy shape looking vaguely SUV-ish. Thinking it the reddish-hued MKC I was testing, I, without even a furtive glance up, flip the Lincoln’s keyfob and get … absolutely no response.
You all know the story. We’ve all made the same gaffe. The reddish crossover I had stumbled upon was a scarlet Mercedes-Benz GLK someone else had parked on the same floor of the parking garage across from my local YMCA.
An easy mistake to make, think I — especially if one is wrist-deep in texting — since both are red and somewhat squarish. Of course, on anything more than the most cursory of glances, the difference between two such obviously disparate vehicles is immediately apparent and I quickly look around to see if anyone was watching. If I had been caught in my CUV identification faux pas, I might have to turn in my Canadian Automotive Jury press card.
Motor Mouth: Once-hated car trends now totally in vogue
“Oh, there it is,” think I, spying my red “faux-by-faux” two spaces down. Not yet sufficiently chagrined, I continue with my texting or app-ing or whatever it is I do when I think I am being productive and mosey (having watched a John Wayne retrospective the night before, it had a great effect on both psyche and my ambulation) over to my ride. I push the fob and … again nothing happens.
This time, however, upon raising my eyes to finally devote my full attention to what I am doing, it is not immediately apparent what the problem is. I’m pushing the right button and, dammit, this is my car. Had I left the lights on? Had the clicker thingamabob fritzed its battery? This could be seriously inconvenient, as I don’t even have the number for Lincoln’s roadside assistance. Dammit!
I look inside the car. Strange, I don’t remember the phone charger thingy, but the leather seats are black and the car is cluttered, so it must be mine, even if I don’t recognize the specific clutter. I step back a few paces and punch the clicker a few more times, this time with a little more vigour. Scratch my head some more. Click some more, this time aiming directly at the steering wheel as if the Lincoln’s freaking Intelligent Access system has suddenly become directional. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Damn, what am I missing?
After the worries that early-onset Alzheimer’s is being particularly aggressive with my beta amyloid proteins finally subside, I manage to take a few steps back and then spot … the Hyundai Tucson badge on the rear of “my” SUV. Now I feel completely foolish. I am an auto journalist after all, paid to be expert in every subtlety that separates the good from the bad in the world of four wheels. This is embarrassing.
Until I try an experiment. Finally finding my MKC (third time’s always the charm, isn’t it), I roll it over a few parking spaces so it’s side-by-each with the Tucson … and still I can barely tell the difference.
Oh, if I ponder the front headlights specifically, there’s an immediately obvious difference, but, for the general shape, the cut of specific details like the rear hatch-mounted spoiler and, truth be told, even the tint of their burgundy paint jobs (Garnet Red in Hyundai parlance versus Ruby Red for the Lincoln, the difference in appellation far greater than their hues), the vehicles are darn near identical.
Five new car trends we can really do without
My first thought is that, “Well, Hyundai will be right pleased,” my supposedly expert self having mistaken the Tucson for an upscale Lincoln. Then the usual lament about mainstream vehicles all starting to look the same takes hold, manufacturers seemingly falling all over themselves racing for that squishy middle ground marketing mavens call consumer acceptance.
And then it dawns on me — no bloody wonder our kids seem so unexcited about our cars. We can’t blame the kids really. Not only are our most popular offerings boringly square, but they are also monotonously identical. With youth — never more so than today — always searching for their unique identity, such rampant sameness is an obvious enthusiasm killer.
We boomers have to face some hard facts. First, our automobiles are as dull as the proverbial dishwater, the cube-like SUV having monopolized automotive design for the last couple of decades. Nor are we likely, being in our batten-down-the-hatches-and-don’t-do-anything-stupid-with-our-RRSP years, to be accepting of anything more radical than the crossovers that are taking over the entire automotive marketplace. Even the Range Rover Evoque, as comely as it may be, is nothing more than a provocative remake of a tired old theme. Indeed, save for the proliferation of turbochargers and the occasional pointy-edged supercar, we boomers haven’t had an original automotive idea since the introduction of the Subaru Outback back in 1994.
The automobile desperately needs some new design ideas and they won’t come as long as the boomer generation — and its deep pockets — refuses to release its stranglehold on automotive stylings. The industry has catered to us for long enough. Perhaps, it’s time we get out of the way.
