Almost every morning, as I trudge up the slushy hill towards NK’s daycare, pushing our “old” stroller, a huge black full-sized Hummer eases past me.
A guy gets out, lifts out his daughter, and carries her into the yard.
And all I can think is: Is this guy crazy?!?
It could me 130 dollars to fill up the tiniest Renault on the market last summer. A Hummer? Must cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars.
Doesn’t everyone hate these things? General Motors is even likely to kill the brand.
But then the Hummer magic settles in. I am usually immune in America because they are so ugly but so ubiquitous. But here it is so brash, so out there, so … well, impressive.
And I start listing all the cool cars that I have owned or driven. I want to let him know that I am American, that I am pushing up the slippery hill out of principle, not necessity. I could have a cool car too, you know.
Luckily that moment passes, and I get my feeling of high anti-status pushing the stroller from our tiny apartment to the forested daycare yard on my way to the subway to work.
Hmmph! A Hummer. Is he crazy?!?