RAM 1500 Classic: Gravity waves coming to a star system near you.

Recently, I rented a vehicle at MIA Airport for a “low manager’s special” rate. I was told the model I was renting would be a surprise. Surely it would not be a “surprise” akin to your parents surprising you with a Millennium Falcon model toy. No. It would be more akin to expecting a Millennium Falcon but instead receiving a Chia Pet plant. 

The counter agent said to walk out and look for space 609, keys would be inside whatever was parked out there…

Freedumb.

A Millennium Falcon it was not.

It was a bright red - as if it needed more attention – 2023 RAM 1500 Classic pick-up truck - the name, RAM, already announcing its non-humanistic intentions.

Are you kidding me? I asked out loud…

“Murica”… the truck whispered.

I looked around, hoping I was mistakenly in space 906; after a long flight, my eyes might be misreading things. No. It was the right space, 609.  I jumped in - no other way to describe entering the truck - and I began to assess the new vehicle I would pilot for the next four days.

Turning it on and driving it in the parking garage I was met with a noticeably unsophisticated shimmy, already a bad sign, and typical of most if not all pick-up trucks, and if you disbelieve me, please drive ANY sedan that averages for the same price as a full-size pick-up truck - approximately $45,000 USD (July 2024) - for a little bit and then get back into a pick-up, start it up, drive it, and tell me how it feels in comparison.

That the Precambrianp-era body-on-frame design with its Phanerozoic-era leaf spring suspension, would, with any turn of the wheel or slight acceleration or braking, elicit so many shimmies and wobbles, was foretelling of what lay ahead. And what lay ahead were more vibrations and thumps that surely created their own gravitational waves and will be received in a few million years on the shores of another star system.

No, the shaking would not stop, every crevice, bump, and imperfection on the road, sent out vibrations everywhere that made me question the heterosexuality of many a “straight” male fans of this large rolling vibrator. Next time you need to make a smoothie, just drive around in one of these with a container full of fruits and wait for the elements to blend themselves with the endless waves and vertical undulations that this vehicle’s rice-pudding-firm shock absorbers and its leaf springs will provide. 

Whoopsy daisy!

Let me say here and now that I understand why so many bro-dozer pick-up truck drivers are always angry and aggressive. It is truly impossible to jump into any of these ridiculously high cabin seats – mind you, I’m 5.11 - with your dignity intact, and without crushing one of your cojones, that is, if you are lucky to nail the landing. After a while atop this age of climate crisis anachronism, I too was becoming aggressive. 

And since this delves a bit into the design of the cabin, let’s talk about the joint Playmobile-Tupperware designed interior and its ergonomics. The plastic-fantastic materials inspired, I guess, by the Korean cars of the 90s (although they learned their lessons well) is truly a thing to not behold. The only saving grace of the use of these horrible materials is that they can be easily cleaned of any spilled Bud Lite (is that too woke? Miller Lite then…) or the leftover sugary sweet sweat from a Big Gulp. The seat textile did not get this memo for the one I had rented had the soiling of some poor sob who possibly wet himself when trying to brake suddenly and realized you need a lot more runway for that simple task, baby.

Ergonomically designed for this guy.

The driver’s position is another horrendous feature of the cabin, for when you have the right position for your arms, your legs are crunched up, but when you have the right position for your legs, your arms are completely straight. This means that it's either made for humans with very short legs and long arms… or it was mistakenly designed for gorillas.

The saving grace is the AC. It cools so fast that your crushed cojones can be preserved in cold stasis until you can revive them at the next pit stop.   

The Silverado’s ridiculous 54.4-inch high front makes “Big Red” seem quite petite.

Can’t see half of the road… or this girl on a bicycle. Imagine if she was a kid.

Let me be clear, I am not against pick-up trucks for work or normal-size trucks at that, as they used to be before the age of Rolling Coal. Why is it that every time I see a small pick-up truck, say the new Ford Ranger, which is fantastic, it is full of tools and work gear in the back, but I’ve yet to see a factory spec Chevy Silverado HD, whose factory height makes the front hood 54.4 inches tall, the height of an average American ten-year-old boy, approach threateningly without any tools or gear… well, other than the tool in the driver’s seat.

I’d love to hear the design logic behind the testosterone overcompensation visibility-impaired styling. I have worked for many car manufacturers; I know and have worked with many car designers as well; I know of none that think these things have any redeeming design qualities. In all fairness, you can say the same about most crossover soap bars out there, but at least these are not trying to kill anyone or melt the ice caps!

Classic Steve Wonder self depricating humor.

I get the love of speed and power. I drive fast, say a sports car, a nimble machine that with some ability can also get you out of trouble. I drive sports cars because I like driving them fast not because I want to show off or humiliate anyone. Think of me as the tree that falls, and no one hears it; I don’t care if I have other drivers anywhere near me. Hence my lack of understanding for the need to drive a 4-ton behemoth with incredible visibility impairments, body wobble, and floating suspension which highlight its Jurassic engineering and non-existing driving dynamics to a degree that would make it safer to have Steve Wonder drive a Camry in public roads.

I understand a love for this beauty, as it was designed not to scare people, but to work.

Is it a total lack of self-worth that requires one to ride above everyone else, flatbed empty, as most of these monsters are driven? Is it the need to savor the fear that those around you feel as your monster passes by? Is that fulfilling? Does it make up for whatever loss of Manhood or Womanhood you face daily?

I don’t know.

Truth be told, I felt bad for “Big Red”, as I came to call the truck. It’s not its fault it exists. It exists by the grace of absurd CAFE standards that have not been updated enough, and greedy bean counters that want to continue to sell outdated technology that, by design, makes them a lot more money than newer, more efficient, more useful, and less destructive means of transport.

Some might say I am missing the point of a pick-up truck. It’s not a vehicle for a rental agency, which is true, it is meant to haul tools and to do manly jobs, like cut wood… and slap liberals. Maybe so, but if this “tool” was relegated to work only, to construction sites, hauling boats, I’d agree. But most of these are parked at your local mall or Whole Foods, carrying nothing more than a deflated male ego in dad jeans, or a petit Karen in need of towering over those she can’t cajole into letting her speak to the manager.

In essence, I don’t drive my sport car to the grocery store, it’s not made for that. Neither is a large size pick-up truck.

Scary isn’t it.

The final hurrah from Big Red was its abysmal gas mileage. A week before renting the RAM, I had another “manager’s special” at the same airport. I found myself inside a Chevrolet Trax (more on this vehicle in another essay). The fuel consumption difference between these two vehicles is striking - let’s not even talk about emissions - even after considering their size difference, but since they both share the same roads, they can and should be compared.

Whereas the Chevy sipped gasoline politely, the way one does when offered the last glass of an old whiskey your host has been saving but now graciously offers to you. Big Red, on the other hand, burned gas as if its purpose in life was to melt and break apart Antarctica’s Ross Ice Shelf.

In 4 days and about 62 miles, the little Chevy did not move the gas needle, as such it cost me zero in fuel! In the 4 days I had Big Red, where I drove 71 miles, I had to pay $52.02 to bring the tank back to full!

For a vehicle that is meant to be a work tool, it is an abysmally expensive and wasteful tool.

Maybe it should come with the option to tow a small Persian Gulf state behind you in order to fulfill its fuel needs. 

Now, I wonder where those gravity waves will end up…