RUDIMENTS, pt.137
Making Cars
One phrase I used to like, but not
always understand, was 'playing
both ends against the middle.' I'd
guess I still don't exactly know what
it means to say, except maybe
hedging, or covering all bets, or
remaining non-committal, in the
middle, of any issue. I'm not sure.
I did, however, in my own version
of it, end up seeing things that
way : take cars, for instance. In
the years around 1968, I'd read
the monthly issues of 'Car and
Driver', 'Road and Track' - the
reviews of new models, racing
exploits, stories and histories
behind cars and design, etc. I
liked all that. They'd always
manage to have an occasional
article, into the early 70's, about
how car technology hadn't much
changed at all, how that '68 Chevelle
was, under its changing skin, still
not much different than a '48 Chevy.
I granted them that argument, and
whatever. And, then, the other
arguments, endless, about safety,
always cropped up. That's when
I realized - about playing both
ends against the middle - how the
car and design people were screwing
that up too, in the name of safety.
That old design (one end) of the
heavy metal and steel, was slowly to
be replaced with newer, lightweight
items of plastics and composites (the
other end of that argument) that
would make the cars safer and
better for survival. The middle here
was to be lighter weight, less impact
damage, air bags and safety belts,
and all that crap. What you ended
up with in about five years, was
manufactured cars that had become
look-alike, jelly-beaned, pieces of
crap. Crap that did eventually, yes,
run better and last far longer, but
which had lost all soul. The cool
thing about cars, until that point,
was the raw entryway they offered
for getting into their guts, hands
dirtied, things learned, re-tunings
made, things altered and manipulated.
Playing off both ends against the
middle genericized the automobile
until it was no more than a function,
now, of efficiency, wind-cutting shapes
of curve and arc, safety matters. And,
alas, plastic. Who ever had heard,
after 40 fine years for massive,
iceberg smashing metal bumpers,
of the smoothie, cover plastic over
white foam board junk, they use now,
and still call 'bumper'? Maybe if you're
one of those who hits a lot of pillows
and marshmallows. Good grief,
everything's gone crazy.
-
Headlights, too - there was a time
when a headlight was a round, glass
globe, always the same and you knew
what it was. Then, about 1974 or so,
the new law said that the shape of
lenses and lights was no longer to
be regulated and they could simply
become weirdly-shaped and integrated
pieces of the design fabric as long as
certain 'lumens' were maintained -
a lumen is a light value, for purposes
of illumination, etc. So, all of a
sudden, you began seeing these oddball
lozenge-shaped things (the lights, not
the cars - though they too suffered)
where headlights used to be. The 'light'
became a design piece too, and apt
to be noticed spreading all over the
car. By that time I'd pretty much
lost all faith in the old integrity
of the metal, mesh, and steel of a
car. By playing off the parts, as
was done, somehow the idea was
lost as well, and it all just turned into
sleek conveyance, with now even
thought of turning the 'drivers' out
are underway. Alter the designation!
-
So, as things move along, the human
defines the meaning. And the shape.
And the usefulness. Just another thing
we must get used to. Joseph Conrad
wrote that 'the only indisputable
truth is our ignorance.'
-
It was a lot different a long time ago -
my father would rip into an engine on
a Saturday clear, working at something
all day, and by evening whatever it was
had been accomplished. Drive-shafts,
universal joints, tie rods, drum brakes,
radiator and cooling system, any of that
stuff, I'd hear about and he'd replace or
fix. At the top of the driveway he even
kept an engine hoist. The junkyards
were just down the street. He wanted
for nothing at all. I remember one time
he'd gotten a '53 Dodge, from somewhere,
for some ridiculous price, 30 bucks and
you take it; that sort of thing. It was a
nice, dark green car. I liked it, except at
about 30 miles per hour the pronounced
shake and shudder it had would rattle
your teeth. He got to work on it, and
by the next weekend it ran smooth as
silk, right up to to speed. 65 or 70 was
a lot back then and that speed asked
a lot as well, from tired engines and
brake systems. So he stayed always
reasonable with his driving (even
though my aunt always called him
a 'cowboy' behind the wheel. We
never went much of anywhere with
her except graveyards, to visit other
relatives - so I figured maybe her
cracks about his crazy driving had
something to do with her not wishing
to end up there as well. Who knew?
Playing two ends against the middle,
I figured: One end, life, and the other
end, death. The middle was fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment