A buddy forwarded me an intriguing--if a bit lengthy--article about the myth of SUV prowess.
First, let me preface this entry by saying that just because you can buy something, doesn't mean you should. With affluence should come obligation to your society, future, and children.
Now, to continue...
Turns out that SUV's seem safe, but really aren't, but it doesn't matter, because as humans we think that things that are bigger and taller are inherently safer, but really aren't in this case.
Understand?
If you'd like clarification, read this article by Malcolm Gladwell for the New Yorker magazine.
In psychology, there is a concept called learned helplessness, which arose from a series of animal experiments in the nineteen-sixties at the University of Pennsylvania. Dogs were restrained by a harness, so that they couldn't move, and then repeatedly subjected to a series of electrical shocks. Then the same dogs were shocked again, only this time they could easily escape by jumping over a low hurdle. But most of them didn't; they just huddled in the corner, no longer believing that there was anything they could do to influence their own fate.
Learned helplessness is now thought to play a role in such phenomena as depression and the failure of battered women to leave their husbands, but one could easily apply it more widely. We live in an age, after all, that is strangely fixated on the idea of helplessness: we're fascinated by hurricanes and terrorist acts and epidemics like sars--situations in which we feel powerless to affect our own destiny. In fact, the risks posed to life and limb by forces outside our control are dwarfed by the factors we can control. Our fixation with helplessness distorts our perceptions of risk. "When you feel safe, you can be passive," Rapaille says of the fundamental appeal of the S.U.V. "Safe means I can sleep. I can give up control. I can relax. I can take off my shoes. I can listen to music."
For years, we've all made fun of the middle-aged man who suddenly trades in his sedate family sedan for a shiny red sports car. That's called a midlife crisis. But at least it involves some degree of engagement with the act of driving. The man who gives up his sedate family sedan for an S.U.V. is saying something far more troubling--that he finds the demands of the road to be overwhelming.
Is acting out really worse than giving up?
Posted by BilFish at February 21, 2004 09:05 AMMy 1996 Toyota 4-Runner is a smaller version of the SUV. I like it because it gives me just enough lift to see what's coming up in traffic jams on the South Florida highways, just enough lift to avoid interior flooding during hurricane season, and plenty of room to house all of my firefighting gear, uniforms and EMS stuff.
I have the back seat piled up with 9 huge 4" binders full of useless information pertaining to the Fire Service, Sheriff's Office, and EMS training. I am required to keep all of this crap in my car at all times -- ready and on hand for whatever need comes up. Uhg. I think it costs gas to haul it all around, but such is para-military life.
Overall it has been a useful car, a good car, a fun car, and currently, an almost paid off car with over 100,000 miles on it. Still goin strong. I do wish it were new with all of the great stuff cars have today like the DVD's, a sterio that still works, electric everything including that handy "miles per gallon" feature that SOME cars have during this gas crisis, blah blah, but it gets me where I need to go with basics. By the way, size does matter:-)
Posted by: Susie at April 24, 2004 08:55 AM