Aston Article that Reminded me of FCar ownership..

My Dad forwarded this to me this last weekend and finally had a chance to read it. Reminded me of FCar ownership vs. the common econobox.. (sorry if repost)

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324705104578147222514736836.html

In "Skyfall," the spectacularly entertaining new James Bond film, Agent 007 initially doesn't seem terribly offended by Javier Bardem's sadistic depredations. For the first two hours, Bond seems to accept the idea that psychopaths will be psychopaths and boys will be boys.

Invade the Houses of Parliament for the specific purpose of assassinating the head of MI6? Cheeky, but well within the ethical parameters of top-flight espionage. Ravage the London Underground, destroying a dozen subway cars in the process? All in a day's work. Murder one of Bond's best friends and send a dozen other British secret agents to their deaths? Good God, Javier, you were only doing your job. No one could hold that against you.

But then Javier goes one step too far and destroys Bond's beloved Aston Martin. To which 007's reply is, "Meet your maker, scumbag."

Bond's infatuation with his car underscores how little the average man has in common with 007 anymore. When the Bond movies first appeared in the early '60s, the average guy might not own a Lamborghini or a Porsche or an Aston Martin, but it was still quite possible that he drove a car exuding a certain measure of style: fins, a convertible roof, a two-tone leather interior, fancy hubcaps, perhaps even wood paneling—inside and out. Because of this, he could deceive himself into thinking that there was a little bit of James Bond in all of us. Even if, like me, he was only 11 at the time.

But that was back in an era when men were men and cars were cars. Now all cars look the same. You can see it when the men come pouring out of the multiplex and pile into their automobiles. Honda Civics. Toyota Corollas. An assortment of vehicles that are putatively Ram-tough. And maybe, for the really daring, a Lexus. Which looks like an Elantra. Or a Sonata. Or an Acura.

But it doesn't look like an Aston Martin.

And don't even get me started on the Priuses.

I myself am just as guilty of this failing as anybody. If Javier Bardem unexpectedly decided to rake my Sienna with merciless machine-gun fire, I'd say, "Be my guest. And strafe the Camry while you're at it." I feel the same way about the Nissan hatchback we used to own. A beige hatchback. Torch it, Javier. I'll lend you the kerosene.

As for the bland, indestructible Previa we held on to for 18 years, go ahead and shred it, pal. Take your time. Enjoy.

Sadly, this is a society in which few men own a car they love so much they would fight to avenge its demise. Men would be more likely to fight to protect their iPods. "Skyfall" is the kind of film that reminds us that there are still some things worth fighting for. Honor. Country. Decency. Aston Martins.

I have owned exactly one car I would kill for. A few years back a good friend gave me a vintage 1983 Mercedes. It was the size of Finland and sounded like Erwin Rommel and the boys were back in town. I loved that car. My son loved it even more. He appropriated it and drove it all around town during his senior year in high school. It was the coolest car in the school, and he was briefly the coolest kid in town. Well, one of the coolest.

That car is long gone. It was too old, it kept going on the fritz, it cost too much to maintain. So I eventually sold it to a car lover on Long Island.

From the moment he entered my driveway I could see how much that car meant to him. He loved that car. He worshiped that car. He looked like the kind of guy, who, if Javier Bardem showed up and destroyed his Mercedes with grenades, bombs and machine-gun fire, he'd literally carve his guts out.

Purists, take note: The Mercedes in question is the 240D. Gunmetal blue.