Today I was driving to work behind a Toyota Tundra. One thing that cannot be overstated is the enormity of a Toyota Tundra. I mean, hello? This mammoth pick-up truck is the biggest thing to come out of Japan since Godzilla. I seethed quietly at the Tundra, because it sort of cut me off on Route 2, and now I was stuck behind its gigantic ass that prevented me from seeing anything beyond it, and the driver was one of those drivers who would accelerate until they were riding the ass of the vehicle in front of them and then brake, accelerate then brake, accelerate then brake, and I’m there blindly wondering if the Tundra’s driver is merely mitigating his zealous acceleration or if traffic is stopping and I’m on the verge of plowing into the expansive back fender of the Tundra. Which would, like, totally ruin my week.
So I’m keeping my distance from the Tundra and listening to the Sirius satellite radio station “Alternative Nation,” which just played a song by the Vines, who I like, and the DJ was perfunctorily bantering about the lead singer of the Vines, Craig Nicholls, who apparently has Aspergers Syndrome. Which surprised me, because the Vines are this high-energy Australian punk band, and when I think “musicians with Aspergers,” I think “Devo” or “Aphex Twin.”
The Sirius DJ mentioned how the Vines’ musical output was adversely affected by Nicholls’ condition, and that why they are not more prolific. “But the Aspergers is also what makes the Vines so great, because people with Aspergers are extremely intelligent and musically creative,” the DJ said.
Then a Red Hot Chili Peppers song came on, barf, so I decided to change the station to Hair Nation, which exclusively plays “hair” bands from the 80s (with some 70s and 90s thrown in). It was Poison’s lame stadium anthem “Stand” (“You’ve got to Stand for what you believe, Stand, Stand, Stand, You know You’ve Got to Stand…”) It was more irritating than driving behind a Toyota Tundra. I thought about how different Poison’s music would have been if Bret Michaels had Aspergers.
So I was listening to Poison, trying to imagine Bret Michaels with an autistic bent, when the Tundra takes a left turn and suddenly I’m behind a Toyota Sequoia SUV, which is as equally immense as the Tundra. And I start turning those Toyota brands around in my head — Tundra, Sequoia, Tundra, Sequoia — and it strikes me that a tundra is a landscape typified by the absense of trees, while a Sequoia is a tree. Evidentally Toyota has found that people who like to drive big vehicles have some sort of penchant for trees, or the lack thereof. I like the tree motif. I mean, what the hell is a Camry or a Yaris, anyway? And is there any car more sexless than a Corolla? I mean, even a minivan implies breeding. And station wagons were just made for vehicular romps. It’s the sort of thing that Poison might have sang about, maybe, if Bret Michaels had Aspergers.
