Car-crossed lover - Los Angeles Times
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Car-crossed lover

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I found Dave Hickey’s essay (“Americans and cars: Love runs out of gas,†Oct. 13) an insightful look into our present-day predicament with what he sees as our automotive love life. At the same time, I think his view of our recent exhibition of automobiles is overly influenced by his apparent anguish at discovering his car doesn’t love him anymore.

Where, he asks, are “any of the cars we loved as works of art or any vehicle at all that might have been paid out on time by a member of the middle class?â€

I am certain that more than a few of your readers might have wondered if the accompanying photographs, which clearly show the oft-lusted-after Jaguar E-type as well as the humble Volkswagen Beetle, were taken from the same exhibition being described.

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I must, however, take exception to Mr. Hickey’s seriously misleading assertion that the six cars we exhibited are “not well designed†according to the Museum of Modern Art’s own standards.

The Cisitalia was for many years the only car in the collection and considered by many auto enthusiasts to be the most beautiful car ever designed by Pininfarina, if not the most beautiful car ever made. My predecessor Arthur Drexler described it as “hollow, rolling sculpture.â€

The Ferrari Formula One is an extraordinary example of a type of object we have always collected, one in which the exterior form is dictated by function: to go as fast as possible and still keep four wheels on the ground. The third car to enter the collection was the Jaguar E-type. Despite Mr. Hickey’s claims, the E-type was one of the first sports cars designed for a mass market. It was also the first car to be designed using aerodynamic calculations that prefigure computer modeling.

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At this point, we did take stock of our small collection and note that we had three European cars, all of which were sports cars, and decided to broaden the collection to reflect more fully the scope of automotive design. Although there are countless American contributions to this history, our native sense of pragmatism is best expressed in the Willy’s Jeep.

The Volkswagen Beetle, the first car to be produced globally to the same specifications, is no less of a cultural icon than the Jeep. Although neither the Jeep nor the Beetle was ever designed with “beauty†in mind, they do have their own sense of beauty that comes from being things incredibly well done.

The Smart Car is a new chapter in automotive design. Like the Volkswagen, the car was designed, by Swatch and Mercedes-Benz, to provide basic transportation. The overall emphasis is sustainability, getting 50 miles to the gallon through ingenious engineering without looking like an automotive hair shirt.

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I am surprised Mr. Hickey didn’t reflect more on the Smart Car, given the tenor of his piece. Not only does it use so little fuel, but it is also half the length of a standard American car. If he could imagine the 405 with less traffic, the environment with substantially fewer pollutants and the American economy without so much imported gasoline, Mr. Hickey might just, well, fall in love. Beep-beep.

Terence Riley

New York

Terence Riley is chief curator for architecture and design at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

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Poor Mr. Hickey. He’s been jilted at the altar of automobile love. His essay made me feel pessimistic and cowardly about my own devotion.

So I took a drive in my Miata, along Mulholland Drive, with Jan and Dean on the radio and the top down. Destination? A love-in at the Van Nuys auto show.

I saw the little old lady from Pasadena in her GTO; Mustang Sally, who was late because she got a ticket; a little deuce coupe (but no 409); and, lo and behold, a daddy who relented and gave back the T-bird!

Mr. Hickey, please come to L.A. on a warm summer night. We’ll zoom-zoom up Angeles Crest to Mt. Wilson and watch the sun set. On the way home, as the stars come out and the scent of sage fills my Miata, you’ll fall in love again and feel automobile romance, optimism and courage.

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Maybe we’ll write a song about it. Maybe I’ll let you drive.

Rick Settle

Highland Park

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