Copyright 1992(c)

                        WHY FOUR-BY-FOUR?
                        By Jack McGeehin 
 
     There's a new trend emerging in my corner of suburbia. People
are giving up their gas-efficient compact cars for monstrous
four-wheel drive trucks and all-terrain vehicles. 
     As conveyances go, these things are enormous. Some would have
to remove their bumpers and turn sideways to stay within the same
state. Others have huge tires with bits of road debris (toll
booths, Cadillacs, etc.) stuck in the treads like pebbles. 
     It's difficult to fathom why this change is taking place. 
     Good advertising is my guess. People will buy anything they
see advertised on television. No one is immune. For instance, I
suspect that one day, after about a million viewings of the same
commercial, I'm going to bolt out of my Laz-Y-Boy with a sudden
realization: "Darn it, haven't I done without one of those fabulous
Ginsu knives for long enough?"  
     It's the same with the television advertisements for these
monster vehicles. One type of ad tries to sell consumers on the
benefits of off-road handling. They depict convivial men and women
in shiny new four-by-fours, trail blazing through forests, crossing
tundra and desert, fording streams, and climbing straight up rock
faces, until they reach some scenic vista that no one has ever
driven to before, where they drink a beer with gusto and look out
at the wildlife scampering away at breakneck speeds. Obviously,
this image appeals to many of my suburban neighbors. There's just
one problem. We don't have a great deal of nature around here to
go tromping around on. Just about all of it has been disassembled
and hauled away to make room for new office complexes. You'd have
to travel quite a ways - probably as far as the countryside! - to
find the nearest stray patch. 
     Another set of commercials shows how well four-wheel drive
vehicles handle on snow and ice. The scenario: Blizzard conditions.
A worried mom drives her unsuspecting children down a treacherous
roadway. Outside are other people's families stuck in the snow -
huddled together, bluish, unlikely to survive the night. A
voice-over says: "Is your family going to be next?" 
     These ads give me the heebie-jeebies. They make me want to run
right out and buy the ultimate traction machine. Forget four-wheel
drive, I'm putting my family in a tank. 
     Then I remember that it doesn't snow much here. Five or six
days a year is all. Throw in a couple of miserable nights of sleet
and freezing rain, and that's about it for winter. Hardly anything
to get all four-wheel-driven up about. 
     My wife and I stay at home on the bad days. Funny thing is,
sometimes I'll see one of these commercials, and even though I know
we're both warm and safe, it will still give me a start. 
     "Honey?" 
     "Yes dear?" 
     "Nothing. Just checking." 
     This is effective advertising. 
     Finally, there are the advertisements concerning payload.
Payload is manly stuff. I've never seen a woman on one of these
commercials. No, it's strictly stern-looking, leathery men selling
other men on high tonnage payload. 
     A one-ton payload is for wimps. These guys won't even talk
about it; they've carried more on their own backs. A two-ton
payload is okay. But, really, you'll need a three-ton payload,
minimum, if you hope to compete with the men in the commercials by
stacking pickup trucks ten high on the back of your vehicle or
filling up with lead bricks and pulling railroad cars. 
     I personally don't see much heavy-duty hauling of this sort
around here. This is a white collar, paper pushing town. Cargo
items are more likely to include briefcases, bags of groceries,
dry-cleaning, and a child or two. Out of a three-ton payload that
still leaves approximately three tons. 
     In fact, despite their potential, the most common use for
these do-all vehicles seems to be commuting to and from work.
Mostly, I see them sitting in traffic. What you might call
zero-wheel driving.  
     Every so often, during a particularly bad rush hour, I catch
a glimpse of a businessman gridlocked in his four-by-four vehicle.
He stares out longingly at a grassy median strip or rocky,
water-filled culvert and sighs. Or drools. Either way, it's a sorry
sight. One you're not likely to see on a television commercial
anytime soon. 
                               END