Confession, they say, is good for the soul. In that spirit I confess that part of me wants Donald Trump to win…and not just to clean up on Super Tuesday, or win the Republican nomination, but to actually win the whole thing; keys to the White House, leader of the free world, stumpy little fingers on the nuclear trigger, face in the side of Mount Rushmore (more likely than not). The full shooting match. Possibly literally.
I realise this is a terrible thing to say, but there’s a good reason.
It’s because my car is grey.
Also, recently, my car (as well as being grey) has started to make some strange, not good, noises, as I’ve previously written about. So bad have the noises got that I’ve decided it’s time to replace it.
Its replacement has to be capable of exactly 3 things:
- Doing the school run with my two kids every morning
- Getting me the 12 miles to work when the weather’s too bad for me to want to use the bike, but not so bad that I take the train
- Have space in the boot for my two dogs when they need to go to the park, the vets, the kennels, etc.
My wife would also appreciate it if it was reasonably fuel efficient and didn’t cost a fortune in tax and insurance, as that would give us more money to spend on family things instead of running a 2nd car that we barely need.
Based on these criteria I’ve decided that what I need is a 10 year old Subaru Impreza WRX.
Objectively this is as sensible a choice as putting a bullshitting, fag-butt fingered, racist, rug-sporting, fact-dodging, idiot into the presidency. The rational part of me knows that the kids and I will end up walking to school because the car will be awaiting expensive repairs or will have been borrowed by a local scrote to help liberate the contents of Bargain Booze’s window-display. It would vastly increases the odds both of one of my inclement weather commutes ending up upside-down in a ditch and that the dogs will incur skull fractures as I turn their trip to the park into a real life enactment of ‘Colin McRae Rally’, with my enthusiasm a poor understudy for the driving talent I never had.
I cannot deny the truth of these things.
But my car is grey!
Specifically it’s a grey 2004 Mazda 6 TS 2-litre.
It has central locking, electric windows and cruise control. It has five doors, two cup holders, pockets in the back of the front seats and a light in the passenger-side sun-visor. It has a grey velour interior. Despite the strange noises it starts and stops with depressing reliability.
It is the car my dad would buy. Actually, as I inherited it from him when he traded up to a newer Mazda 6 it is, literally, the car that my dad bought.
The Subaru might be terrible and might crippled me financially, emotionally and, quite probably, physically, but it wouldn’t be boring.
President Trump also wouldn’t be boring. That’s not the same as being good, but it’s a lot more attractive a prospect than ‘meh’…and so many people of my generation are sick of ‘meh’.
The first UK general election I was eligible to vote in was won by John Major. John Major! My generation’s great rebellion was voting for Tony Blair, and we hate him now. Not because of Iraq -that’s just a pretence- but because he turned out to be just another fucking politician.
Part of me even supports Corbyn. Specifically the same part of me that thinks ‘Bugger the Subaru – I should get myself another Capri, like I used to have when I was 20!’
Even Farage and Boris tap into this desire for excitement; admittedly they’re more the large-engined Ford Mondeos of politics; predominantly sensible with a impressive sounding, but ultimately disappointing, bit of extra grunt that doesn’t quite compensate for their innate blandness.
Cameron or Clinton, in contrast, have the whiff of the low tax-band, the sensible insurance group, the impressive MPG figures that would appeal to me if I were being in any way rational. It’s easy to know they’re what we need, but hard to convince ourselves that they’re what we want.
In that spirit then I say, “Go Trump!”, and I’ll see you all in the ditch.