• by Adam Buckman , Featured Columnist, May 1, 2018

And now, another in my growing list of TV pet peeves: The premiere date that isn’t really a premiere date.

For example, the press material provided by Discovery for its new car-appraisal series called “Sticker Shock” clearly identifies the premiere date and time as Wednesday, May 2, at 10 p.m. Eastern.

And yet, the first episode of this show to air on Discovery actually aired last night -- Monday night (April 30).

I have not bothered to call a press rep at Discovery for an explanation of this because I have heard such explanations before. They usually have something to do with “sneak peeks” or “soft launches,” or other concepts about which I have no understanding (or patience).

All I know is that a “premiere” date is and always will be the day a TV show is first seen, at least to me. I do not know why decision-makers in the TV business take such simple concepts and then complicate them.

This pet peeve has no bearing on the relative qualities of this particular show, however. Basically, it is “Antiques Roadshow” for cars -- a great concept that is long overdue on TV, especially since “Antiques Roadshow” doesn't do cars.

This show, “Sticker Shock,” would have felt right at home on CNBC, perhaps paired with “Jay Leno’s Garage,” for example -- a show that already dabbles in car appraisals in at least one regular segment in each episode.

It also fits right in on Discovery, which has long featured a slew of male-skewing car shows. On the episode of “Sticker Shock” that Discovery provided for preview (although heaven knows if the episode is the “premiere” episode or not), a handful of regular people are seen who have brought their unusual or collectible vehicles to a warehouse somewhere to be appraised.

For example, one genial senior brought a 1953 Buick Roadmaster that he completely customized himself in a project that took him nine years. He hails, evidently, from Bradenton, Florida, although when he pronounced the city's name, it came out sounding like “Bradington” -- which is exactly how it got spelled onscreen too.

I went in search of “Bradington,” Florida, on Google and came up empty-handed, which makes me think there is no municipality in Florida with that name.

That brings me to another TV pet peeve of mine: Misspellings (and related on-screen inconsistencies).

Identifying this man's hometown as “Bradington” based on his pronunciation is lazy and sloppy, but so are routine typos onscreen that you can spot every day on TV these days.

In another segment on this show -- which is about cars, mind you -- the word “cylinder” was spelled “cyclinder.” C'mon, people, let's get it together, OK?

If one can get past these examples of slovenly oversight on “Sticker Shock,” then the show itself is very easy to take and even enjoy.

One of the merits of this show and others like it is that they celebrate the cars of the pre-digital age. I suspect that one reason why so many ordinary people who are not professional mechanics can nevertheless perform at least some repairs on these old cars is because the cars’ mechanisms were so much simpler than the way cars are made today.

In addition, for many Americans, driving a car was the epitome of individual freedom. Today, in a world in which all things -- including cars -- are connected with something or someone else, driving alone in one's car is not really the free and independent experience it once was.

In this vein, “Sticker Shock” is a welcome addition to TV's stable of vintage car shows. But please, “Sticker Shock” producers, remember that spelling does count. OK?