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Brian Ladd admits he's attempting
the seemingly impossible: "A rational discussion
about the merits of automobiles is scarcely possible,"
he writes on the second page of Autophobia,
which, as its subtitle indicates, explores the polarized
passions surrounding the automobile and its impact
on the 20th century - and beyond.
Speaking of beyond, Ladd, who has a Ph.D. from Yale,
taught at Rensselaer Polytechnic and does historical
research at the University of Albany, ponders whether,
little more than a century after its creation, the
age of the automobile is about to follow the age
of the dinosaurs into extinction.
Ladd quotes one of those critical of the car and
its (pardon the pun) impact on our lives and lifestyles:
"From being the plaything of society it has
come to dominate society. It is now our tyrant, so
that at last we have turned in revolt."
Sounds like a contemporary critique, a bemoaning
of automotive congestion and pollution and the societal
cost of car crashes and the resulting injuries, not
to mention how cars have changed the face of our
cities. But, as Ladd notes, those words were written
in 1911, little more than a decade into the dawning
of the automotive age.
Perhaps the question isn't whether the age of the
automobile is about end, but whether the automobile
itself finally may be coming of age.
"A striking fact about the automobile as a
technological artifact… is how little it has
really changed in the course of a century and more,
for all its hyped and often useful technological
refinements," Ladd writes.
And yet, early in the second century of the automobile,
real technological change seems imminent. Despite
the hype over hydrogen fuel cells, hybridization
through the marriage of combustion engines and battery
packs is the first and significant step toward the
eventual electrification of personal transportation.
But more than a technological revolution is needed
to quiet the car critics. Regardless of propulsion
system, reduction in harmful emissions and even independence
from foreign petroleum sources, the central conflict,
Ladd notes, is that between the fact that the car
provides mobility but requires space - for driving
and parking - while cities are "organized around
proximity and stability."
Or, as Ladd writes, we enjoy "the convenience
of getting places" yet then face "the inconvenience
of parking your car when you arrive." Thus,
the critics claim, the car forces us to choose between
roads and parking lots, and neighborhoods, parks
and even businesses that too often must be removed
to make room for driving and parking. There is, indeed,
a price to be paid for the "freeway life."
"The approach taken in this book…,"
Ladd writes, "is to trace the triumph of the
automobile through the eyes of those who hated or
resisted it. This history of hostility to the automobile
is inevitably also a history of its appeal, as seen
through the (admittedly distorted) lens of those
who spurned it."
Ladd tells that story of the car and its critics
- and of the car's success -- in a series of nicely
titled chapters:
- Roadkill: The New Machine Flattens Its Critics
- Buyer's Remorse: The Tarnished Golden Age
- Cities in Motion: The Car in the City
- Freeway Revolts: The Curse of Mobility
- The End of the Automotive Age-or Not
- Road Rage
Ladd dedicates his book to his parents, George and
Marlys. "This would probably be a different
book if I had grown up on the Upper West Side, thinking
that the typical car was a yellow Checker.
"I am a child of the American car culture,"
he notes, "but with a difference. In the heyday
of mammoth Chevys and Fords, my parents reared me
in the back seat of a Rambler and the front seat
of a Datsun, thus (I know realize) launching me on
a lifelong quest to figure out if I was missing out
on something. I was, as it turns out, and I'm glad
I did."
But Ladd makes sure we who are interested in the
car, and even its critics, don't miss out. I found
his book to be an updated and meaningful companion
to The Automobile and American Culture, edited
by Lewis and Goldstein of the University of Michigan,
and to the seminal The Automobile Age by California-Irvine
professor James Flink. In fact, Autophobia will be
placed next to those two on my bookshelf.
By the way, "Autophobia," Ladd writes,
"is an obscure psychiatric diagnosis of 'fear
of oneself'."
That fear, it seems, only accelerates as we of flesh
wrap ourselves in metal mechanicals to the point
that man - or woman - and machine become one.
"The auto driver does not like it when someone
gets in his way," a study by German sociologists
revealed. "He sees his vehicle as a peaceful
home, protected for his security and surrounded by
'armored' vehicles that restrict his freedom and
mobility. He complains that there are too many cars,
forgetting that his, to, is one of them. He objects
to the drivers' lack of discipline, forgetting that
he moves over the pavement in a permanent state of
aggression."
Again, that study sounds very contemporary - even
though it was done nearly 50 years ago, in what now
seems in idyllic age of motoring.
And yet, despite car critics and the increasing
lack of freedom on the freeways, Ladd notes, "…many
of us have chosen to become virtual centaurs attached
to our four-wheeled prosthetic bodies," relying
unwisely on our vehicles not only for our transportation,
but for self-esteem and as statements of our success."
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