A Turbocharged Reflection On Rachel Kushner's Essay About Hot-Rodding
Trigger Warning: Lana Del Rey
For Harper’s, Rachel Kushner wrote about her experience delving into the world of hot-rodding. Kushner’s teenage son is a car aficionado. According to the article, he once told her and her philosopher husband that he didn’t want to grow up to be like them and merely “push paper.”
He declared, “You guys just sit there. I am going to use my body in my work.”
This may seem like a textbook case of a child rebelling against his parents. But Kushner, an incisive writer, uses this anecdote to land on a broader point about the nature of labor. In the article, she goes into minute detail on why people are drawn to hot-rodding: the “noticeably sweet scent” of race gas, the visceral ritual of making sure tires are “sticky”, the pride of keeping a trunk toolbox containing all you need to “completely disassemble and reassemble” a car.
Kushner concludes that hot-rodding, as a craft skill, offers an antidote to the laziness of contemporary life. She writes:
“Talented mechanics are good listeners. They know the sound of a bad wheel bearing, or of an exhaust leak….
Others of us—myself included—do not think with our hands, and cannot respond to many of the signs emitted by the material world. Instead, our relation is passive. The world has come to invite this passivity.”
She argues that “passivity” manifests in our subscription-based culture, which includes delivery apps and streaming services. There’s a general sense of not having true ownership over any product (for instance, she notes, no one can fix their own iPhone and is therefore eternally reliant on Apple).
My boyfriend is a huge car person. Though he’s humble, he definitely has an encyclopedic knowledge of every vehicle that’s graced this earth.
Our four year anniversary is coming up soon. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a love poem. However, reading Kushner’s essay so close to that upcoming anniversary made me reflect on how I’ve developed a deeper appreciation for my surroundings since meeting him.
I grew up in LA. Cars meld into the landscape. Unless it’s exceptionally expensive or old, there’s no real reason to stop and spend too much time looking at a parked car.
One time, on a stroll through the majestic streets of North Hollywood, my partner pointed out how directional wheel designs can be divided into two types — angry vs. happy. This was a rule that I was totally unaware of. Now, I can’t stop hearing the characters from Inside Out when I’m hunting for a parking spot.
On numerous occasions, we’re walking down a sidewalk and his eyes light up and I assume he’s ogling an attractive man, but actually, he’s just admiring a rare Japanese custom car that’s parked in front of some mundane location: a coffeeshop, a gas station, a neon strip mall littered with garbage.
I learned about the charms of Facebook Marketplace and how it’s not only a fantastic resource, it’s a thriving network where all sorts of people can bond over cars that look like they are out of The Addams Family.
Hot-rodding culture started with American muscle cars and now is an umbrella term encompassing import cars and trucks. In granular detail, he taught me about the Southern Californian subculture that birthed 2001’s The Fast and the Furious and how the original film’s underground ethos was diluted over the course of infinite merchandise and sequels.
He says that there’s a queer element in the ways in which owners customize vehicles to match their individual quirks, kinks, and eccentricities.
Yesterday, he told me that his 2000 BMW 528i Touring is imperfect but he loves it nonetheless so is sticking with it. Okay, maybe this is becoming a love poem after all.
Earlier this year, he took me for a ride through the Hollywood Hills in a Hawkeye Subaru WRX. The car, which was modified for a YouTube series, has a turbocharger, a device that forces more air through the engine and thus increases acceleration. In other words, you can go very fast if you want to (and he did). The car was loud and powerful and menacing. I strapped in, prayed, breathed, and cranked up Lana Del Rey (he chose the car, I chose the tunes).
I go through life pretending to be a protagonist in some HBO comedy series that’s bound to get canceled after six seasons. I’ve only had horrible experiences at sound baths, and probably need an Adderall to meditate. But in that Hawkeye Subaru WRX, my internal chatter was overwhelmed by the engine and thumping music.
Maybe Carrie Bradshaw should have moved to LA and dated a car guy.
Eventually, I’m supposed to figure out to how to drive a stick. This is something he wants me to do because all his dream cars are manual transmission and he fears that during some sort of natural disaster, I may need to move his car. Also, he just wants me to learn how to do it for the sake of knowledge. But I’m profoundly uncoordinated. I can barely remove a key from a chain without the guidance of a tele-therapist.
However, after reading that Harper’s article, I’ve pondered whether I should just get over myself and enjoy the challenge of it all.
I don’t have that many hobbies. I guess I exercise. That’s part of a health regimen, so doesn’t really count. So, I’ll start small, and try to master a skill that’s tactile and practical (does anyone want a vase? I’m signing up for a ceramics class!), and then see where I go from there.
I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving!
Also, please check out this podcast I just launched with Study Hall! I interviewed Taylor Lorenz, a tech reporter who recently left legacy media.
Our conversation is dynamic and perfect to listen on a ride through the Hollywood Hills in a Hawkeye Subaru WRX or 2000 BMW 528i Touring.