I didn’t realize it at the time, but I grew up in a hotbed of capitalist dogma. My dad was militant about spending money smartly and conservatively, which ultimately resulted in the
codification of unofficial purchase rules. Among them: “If the products are of similar quality and price, buy American. If not, [insert eh-what-are-ya-gonna-do? shrug here].”
Thus
nobody in my family has owned an American-made car since 1996, when our beloved Ford Bronco was sent off to the great energy-inefficient junkyard in the sky (which is to say: the junkyard). This may
well have bothered my dad, a veteran, but it never altered the purchase mindset for my sisters and me. We’re simple folk: We read Consumer Reports and reflexively buy whatever it
recommends, hoping that the products in question aren’t hand-stitched by Latvian war orphans but, frankly, not caring enough to confirm. I feel no need to apologize to Sam Gompers or Norma Rae
for this.
Of course, over the duration of my life as a sports-liker-type person, I’ve taken note of the extent to which American automakers have gone to bring freedom-and-grandma-hating
mutineers like me back into the fold. I have viewed literally hundreds of hours worth of commercials for American-made cars. What I’ve taken away from them can be summarized thusly: Truck truck
toughness truck rugged individuality truck Like A Rock family blue jeans football truck truck resilience BBQ truck.
And now two of these companies, Ford and Chevrolet, are coming for me on
other platforms. Their presence arrives in the form of a web series, Ford’s “Finding Peace in the New 2016 Ford Explorer,”
and a smattering of related vignettes, Chevy’s “Traverse 4G LTE WiFi: Seven Kids.” One piles on the expected clichés
about family and togetherness and discovery, while the other dispenses with the shiny product shots and posits that we like our devices more than we do one another. Guess which approach is more
effective?
It ain’t Ford’s. “Finding Peace in the New 2016 Ford Explorer” chronicles the adventures of a demographic dream of a family (attractive/fit mom and dad,
cherub daughter, scamp-with-mischievous-glint-in-eye son) as they drive across the country and, like, get back to the real realness of real life. Unfortunately, Ford’s vision of family reality
(dropping out to spend one’s days driving, pseudo-philosophizing, chipmunk-petting and outdoor-activity-ing) doesn’t conform with actual family reality (OH HEAVENS PLEASE DON’T WIPE
YOUR HANDS ON THE CURTAINS YOU FOUL FOUL MINI-PERSON YOU).
It’s a fraction of a vision, really. While Daddy LeanLegs characterizes the family’s trek as “kind of an insane
objective,” the series avoids any suggestion of discord - any tension stemming from his pursuit of a new line of work, say, or from the kids being asked to occupy themselves in the car for hours
on end. It feels like a whitewash. I’m the type of customer Ford is hoping to lure here - I have children and a need to transport them from one worldly
destination to the next - and this thing rings false to me in every regard.
Visually, we’re treated to exactly nothing that would be out
of place in a Red Bull series… well, except the kids, whose stringy arms would render them something less than an asset on extreme-paddleboarding expeditions. There are loads of sharply shot
landscapes and almost too-perfect action footage. This is actually a problem: I came away from the video more interested in booking a vacation out west than buying a car that could house all my crap
for such a trip.
Contrast this with my reaction to “Seven Kids,” which was basically a series of giggles and nods. In it, a septet of young’uns (actual children, not actors)
are assembled on a soundstage and told that only one of them can play a video game. The others, unsurprisingly, are not pleased by this. One kid cops to being “pretty jealous,” while
another anxiously chirps, “Is everybody going to have a turn?”
Then a wall slides open to reveal the Chevy Traverse - another family car targeting people who, like me, have manypressingengagements. But unlike Ford, Chevy makes the savvy - and kinda unprecedented - decision to focus on a single feature: The model’s built-in WiFi, which
can connect up to seven devices (hence the seven kids). The kids oooh and aaah, peck away blissfully at their screens, and we’re done.
For all I know, the new Ford Explorer comes with
built-in WiFi standard. But in trying to paint it as a supercar for superactive superfamilies, the folks behind “Finding Peace” instead make it seem like any other
outdoor-activity-accommodating SUV. Conversely, by declining to oversell the Traverse’s charms, Chevrolet steers the brand into a comfortable and practical little niche. Near the end of
“Seven Kids,” one of the seven can be heard quipping, “A WiFi car? That’s so cool!” It sure is, fella, it sure is.