Just shoot me.
You're welcome to call me xenophobic, isolationist or protectionist -- hell, you can call me a cab, but please, just shoot me first.
I've never owned a Hummer but I drove one for a day, a sort of celebrity perk. A dealer in upstate New York decided that if I drove it around I'd attract attention to his business, and I happily obliged him.Mostly, I attracted passengers. (Ten, as I recall.) This was 1998, when there was no numeric model designation -- it was just a Hummer, impossibly big and barely domesticated. I loved the size, the engine, the heft, the ability to inflate and deflate the tires while rumbling down the road.
The air conditioning sucked. The giggle factor was off the charts.
Oh, screw eco-hostility and dirty looks -- this was a Hummer, for crissake. As long as I had the scratch to pay for the fillups, I couldn't possibly have cared less.
I thought that someday I might build my Garage Mahal and own one of these quintessentially American brutes. Alas, my personal financial ship sailed and now, it appears, so has Hummer.
Damn.
