Macho superiority

The other day (Saturday, July 13th, 2013) I encountered a strident expression of macho superiority.
I fell in behind a newish red Dodge Ram pickup, and on a thin panel below the tailgate was lettered “Real trucks don’t have sparkplugs.”
Well, yes, a gasoline engine uses sparkplugs to ignite the fuel mixture in its cylinders, and most pickups use gasoline engines.
Diesel-engines don’t use sparkplugs.
The fuel self-ignites when sprayed (“injected”) into the hot air-filled cylinder, at its point of highest compression (hottest), when the piston is at the top of the cylinder.
Large trucks, tractors and railroad locomotives migrated to diesel-engines. They’re economical and produce immense torque.
My how things have changed!
In my youth the goal was speed, signifying immense power-output at higher engine-speeds, allowing those higher speeds.
What every boy wanted was a hotrod or a Corvette, incredible top-end power and speed potential.
Speed of course is dangerous. To be able operate a car at high speed indicated the prolific size of one’s testicles.
Such power represented masculinity. The fact one’s car was faster than another meant the driver was a stud.
Diesel, at that time, was laughing-stock. Diesel was wimpy. Diesel could not generate the top-end power that signified incredible masculinity.
But that seems to have flip-flopped.
Now the symbol of masculinity has become the truck, preferably with a diesel engine, like the big-boys (the 18-wheelers).
I look in Corvettes and they’re usually driven by older gentlemen, bearded guys in their 50s and 60s.
The young studs and stud wannabees are choosing trucks, giant pickups standing tall with diesel engines.
Top-end speed isn’t what matters to these guys. What matters is low-end grunt. How much load can it pull?
The fact a lot can be pulled seems a measure of masculinity.
Dodge has a diesel option for its full-size pickups, a Cummins truck-diesel.
These engines generate immense torque.
No doubt the Ram I was following had a Cummins diesel.
You can tell these monsters by their sound. Diesel-trucks chuff. There also is usually a whistling turbocharger.
I think the Cummins diesel is turbocharged.
An even greater measure of masculinity is the size of the truck. The goal seems to be duallys (below), a pickup with four tires on the rear axle, dual tires at each end.

A Dodge Ram dually.

Fenders have to be installed each side of the pickup-box, since the extra tires are outside the pickup-box.
Sometimes those fenders are sheet-metal, but they’re quite often fiberglas.  Often they get hit. I’ve seen partially disintegrated extender-fenders flapping in the breeze.
I wouldn’t touch one of those behemoths with a 10-foot pole!
I’ve never got into profiling.
I like fast cars, but only because they’re fun to drive. I’m not interested in racing or profiling.
I’ve been invited to race hundreds of times, especially on my motorcycle.
I pass. I’m not Mario Andretti. I don’t have the moves or reactions, nor do I have the nerve to take risks.
What determines my choice in autos is not what image I wanna project.
It’s what do I wanna do with it.
I suppose chasing trains is my biggest requirement. —I’m a railfan and have been since age-2 (I’m 69).
To successfully chase trains I need All-Wheel-Drive and high ground-clearance.
You get high ground-clearance with a truck, but I can just imagine chasing trains with something the size of an aircraft-carrier.
I’ve chased trains down narrow dirt roads where a dually would be way too big.
I also can’t imagine driving to Altoona (PA; where I chase trains) in a truck.
Nor chuffing along to a diesel cadence.
What I need is an SUV. It has the ground-clearance of a truck, yet rides like a car. SUVs are often All-Wheel-Drive. They’re not a Jeep, but a Jeep wouldn’t be a pleasant cruise.

My new Ford Escape, purchased used with only 3,000 miles; it’s 2012.

I am now on my second SUV, a Ford Escape (at left). My first was a Honda CR-V. The Escape is my CR-V replacement, although slightly bigger, and I’m sure heavier.
And it solves some of the problems of the CR-V, namely a side-hinged rear-door that hit my garage-door, and relative dog-unfriendliness.
My Escape has a top-hinged rear-door that clears my garage-door, and the earlier Escape (mine is a 2012) is the most dog-friendly SUV I’ve ever seen, at least at that size.
My Escape also happens to have a V6, not available in the CR-V (it was an inline-4).
I liked my CR-V, but I like my Escape more.
I’m very impressed. Although I could do without some of the Escape’s styling gimcracks.
I suppose my Escape projects an image, but if so that image is function.
Charging a narrow farm-track, chasing a train, without worrying about holing the oil-pan.
Navigating icy conditions easily with All-Wheel-Drive.
And navigating byways too narrow for a diesel pickup.
A youngish guy lifts weights in the YMCA Exercise-Gym where I work out.
He drives a white Dodge Ram pickup with a large “Ram-it” decal in the rear window.
What does that guy see in that thing? He doesn’t need it. He’s a nice guy. Why does he need such an abomination?

• My current dog is “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara), a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s eight, and is my sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s my fourth rescue.)
• “Turbocharging”is to drive a supercharger with an exhaust-driven turbine. The supercharger forces more intake-air (and fuel, if gasoline) into the engine.
• I (we) drove the CR-V 10 years. My wife died April 17th, 2012.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles east. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield, southeast of Rochester.)