My Mind’s Made Up
Albrecht Stachel
 
Reflecting on Symbols of Affluence
 
Safe in bed at a physical-therapy facility in Madison, Wisconsin, comfortably propped up with time on my hands, I am writing in part to distract myself from my brand-new right hip. I’m resting my laptop on a large and entertaining chunk of foam between my legs, designed to prevent the new ball from popping out of the new socket. The muscles are unhappy, having been cut and stretched, and I hasten to add that physical therapy is still not a joy.

Unlike my work as a Mercedes mechanic, where I have the advantage of stopping the car and shutting off the engine when the work is finished, my surgeon had to keep all systems operational while doing his job. More amazingly, my hip was replaced with the aid of robotic control, yielding a pain-free post-operative recovery.

My robot-assisted surgery was available due to my proximity to the University of Wisconsin-Madison, which has made this mid-sized city a hub for medical research and technology. When I began attending UW as a student in 1968, classes were often empty, research labs had been turned into fortifications, and the streets were the site of battles between students and authorities. The ideals of the time held that capitalism was the ruination of world civilization, and technology was part of the problem.

That was then. The ‘60s ended, I graduated and went to work in research at the university. In the decades that followed, UW outgrew its radical past and became an economic and technological powerhouse, with departments dedicated to everything from business management to biotechnology, and a student body fully focused on career paths.

In the mid-1990s, some 20 years after I left my university research job to dedicate myself to Mercedes-Benz service, I parked my 300SEL 6.3 near the campus while dining at a nearby restaurant. Upon returning to my 6.3, I found it had acquired additional badging:  “CAPITALIST SWINE” written in big red letters across the trunk lid.


I recall the immediate swell of anger and outrage upon discovering this defilement. But while driving homeward with the tag still emblazoned on the trunk, I laughed out loud. I had just stepped back in time; the university still harbored some students with that old flame for social justice. The incident now seemed almost charming. I wiped the pen off later that night – no harm done.

We have all seen countless films and television programs in which the good guys take on the bad guys driving an endless stream of black S-Class sedans. When we choose to drive the world’s most recognizable symbol of affluence, we take on an additional responsibility to our fellow drivers and others around us. When owning and operating a car with this amount of social and economic baggage, we are obligated to be on our best behavior, even when those around us have seemingly made up their minds about us.

We also should be on guard against certain side effects of being behind the wheel of a high-performance vehicle. All forms of power can embolden some bad habits. None of us is immune to road rage, but how we act in response is the measure of maturity. In a world in which any one of us can easily feel powerless, driving an automobile allows us to sense that we have control over something.

Not only do Mercedes owners drive that most recognizable of symbols, our behavior also sends signals that others may note. Poor driving behavior – particularly by folks in a Mercedes – further reinforces popular anger about economic inequality, a conviction demonstrated by the occasional key scratch attack on a car’s paint work or the remarkable coincidence of a shopping cart ending up next to your car in the corner of a parking lot carefully selected to protect the car.

Collectively, we should be on our best behavior as we drive our Mercedes. It troubles me to see the bad guys driving a Mercedes in movies. With that thought in mind, I have made it a habit to pay it forward by demonstrating generous and kind road behavior. I will encourage the other driver to proceed at intersections. I make certain that pedestrians get the respect that walking in traffic should afford them. I do not speed – at least, not in the presence of others. I do not throw trash out my car window. I do not blare my car horn to assert my rights on the road. Dimming my lights at night for oncoming traffic at a respectful distance is important. I do not threaten to push bicyclists or joggers off the tarmac; I give them wide berth. And I park respectfully in the provided spaces. In short, good road behavior will reflect well on all of us driving a Mercedes.

A plus point for vintage and classic Benzes: when driving an older Mercedes, consideration and appreciation greet you everywhere. Last summer, driving the ’52 300 in Chicago freeway traffic, I was afforded extra room on the road, thumbs up, and courteous right-of-way while maneuvering through some of the country’s most horrendous traffic. It is rewarding to see genuine respect and even affection from other drivers when that Mercedes is driven with conscious courtesy.

As my readers well know, it is not only the wealthy who choose to drive Mercedes automobiles. They are tools of incomparable quality, and in the final reckoning, Mercedes-Benz models are no more costly than any number of dual-axle pickup trucks, SUVs, and muscle cars that would not be out of place anywhere in America. Many choose Mercedes-Benz for its high-quality and design standards, with no interest in the brand as a status symbol.

Buying a Mercedes, vintage or modern, is a choice that is based on thought and intelligence. If we want to avoid a return to the good old days of student riots with our high-quality automobiles the targets of malcontent rage, it is our responsibility to carry this through to make thoughtful choices in our social interactions both on and off the road.