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As the calendar winds down, there is only one question in the minds of gearheads around the world: “What if 2020 were a car?”
What if this year was an automobile? What sort of ride would that be? Just imagine. It’s a fascinating horror. It’s an exercise in thrilling scorn.
As a year, 2020 began like many. The weather stunk. It was cold. There were protests. There were counter-protests. Politicians made promises, broke them and made more promises. Yet, there were troubling signs. In automobile lingo, the car started making strange noises. Little parts broke down.
Think 2013 Dodge Dart.
The Dodge Dart was produced from 1958 to 1981. When it was reintroduced six years ago, those of us who grew up driving around in them in the 1970s and 1980s were intrigued. The old Dodge Dart was not sexy, was not flashy, was not particularly exhilarating, but you could bet your neon Ocean Pacific shorts it was reliable. It went from Point A to Point B. Fans of the original refer to it as “unkillable.”
The Dodge Dart circa 2013 was a huge letdown, and by 2016, it was discontinued. At the time, I wrote that experts cited its mediocre fuel economy, wonky six-speed manual, auto and dual-clutch transmissions and a lack of backseat space as significant flaws. Sales had been sluggish. The Dart was supposed to sell 300,000 units a year, yet only 87,392 moved in 2015.
By March, the year 2020 had transformed into a different vehicle.
We knew by the early spring the year had become a “stealth lemon.” It was the car you thought worked that turned out to be a disaster. We spent February examining the COVID-19 situation in China and thinking “It can’t happen here,” and we were rudely awakened. It was the equivalent of looking into your neighbour’s driveway in 1958 and thinking, “I can’t believe he bought a Chevrolet Impala. Good thing I bought an Edsel.”
Spring 2020 was an Edsel, the biggest failure in automotive history, one that is the epitome of the “wrong car at the wrong time.” That sums up the coronavirus in the spring. The wrong virus at the wrong time. The virus was lethal and contagious, but at least the world, which had been anticipating a pandemic for decades, was unprepared.
As sunshine brightened our days and leaves grew in great verdant green bursts upon the trees, the year 2020 manifested itself into another crappy automobile.
It became an overpriced, disappointing sports car.
Like all crappy sports car, the summer of 2020 looked good from the outside. The weather was warm and sunny. We got excited. The lockdown eased. ICUs emptied. Cases of COVID-19 went down. We bought in.
Instead of an Audi R8, a BMW Alpina or a Porsche Boxer, however, we were stuck behind the wheel of a 2009 Saturn Sky, a luxury vehicle renowned for leaving those who drove it feeling like they had taken a shower from a garden hose in the parking lot of a No Frills. The summer of 2020 was a 2003 Ford Thunderbird, a luxury vehicle featured in a James Bond movie (Die Another Day) that was so grotesque and underwhelming that those who bought one ended up wishing they were starring in a Bond sequel entitled Die Today.
F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in The Great Gatsby, “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” The year 2020 was no exception. It began to suck all over again in the fall. COVID-19 numbers steadily rose. We kept locking down and masking up and they just kept – and keep – climbing. The economy withered and decayed.
In this respect, the autumn of 2020 was the car you once loved that keeps breaking down, but not seriously enough that you get rid of it all together. You keep driving the money-suck because you think you can squeeze another year out of it – and for old time’s sake. It was my 2010 Dodge Grand Caravan. That minivan served its purpose, but we kept up with each other far too long; that car eventually refused to start when I arranged to have it towed.
What will 2021 bring?
Could it be worse? Yes.
Could it be better? Certainly.
Will there be cars to drive and trips to take? Definitely.
Meanwhile, it’s time to take the 2020 model back to the dealership.
Here’s to 2021. Chin up. Mask on. Pedal to the metal.
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