Michigan Avenue - Niche Media - Michigan Avenue magazine is a luxury lifestyle magazine centered around Chicago’s finest people, events, fashion, health & beauty, fine dining & more!
Issue link: http://digital.greengale.com/i/101703
hell on wheels WE LOVE THE SHINY CHROME DREAMLAND OF THE CHICAGO AUTO SHOW, BUT ACTUALLY BEING A DRIVER IN THIS TOWN IS ANOTHER STORY ALTOGETHER. BY PAIGE WISER Onward! 120 ILLUSTRATION BY DANIEL O'LEARY D riving a car in snow-bound Chicago is about as practical as tying helium balloons to your lawn chair to achieve flight. It's fun, sure, but also a little dangerous. If the weather cooperates, maybe eventually you'll get where you want to go. But then what will you use to save your parking space? Over the optimism, Chicagoans have been systematically discouraged from driving cars. Even if we have the idealism to go buy our dream Camaro in glorious Inferno Orange Metallic, the thrill wears off quickly. By the time we've gotten it home, its color is the same as all the other cars: Metallic Sludge. The blizzard last February brought motorists to their knees. And in truth, it does suck the glamour out of driving when you have to abandon your car on Lake Shore Drive and beg a fireman for a ride home. There's not really any driving in the Gold Coast, just competitive parking. It goes without saying that the valets always win. And steadily, insidiously, the bicyclists are taking over. Emboldened by the support of Mayors Daley and Emanuel, two-wheelers have become the real machine. Every time you venture onto a Chicago street in a car, you are judged—and found wanting—by a whizzing cyclist with hostile arm signals who shrieks "LEFT!" We know what "left" means. It means "I despise everything about you, from the steel and aluminum cage that makes you look like a walrus to the inevitable conclusions that you are killing the earth, the economy, and the souls of our children. We are on the path of righteousness; you are nothing more than potholes." Then sometimes they bang on our cars as we clutch our seat belts. The obvious alternative is to walk our beautiful city; to get a little exercise. But since a Department of Streets and Sanitation pickup truck mowed down eight pedestrians on Cedar last year, it's taken the shine off walking, too. Those Wendella boat rides on the Chicago River look better every day. And that's why we get so excited about the Chicago Auto Show every year, our mouths drooling and our hearts aflutter. Can you blame us? The auto show is our Disney World. It's a fantasyland—not for its futuristic concept cars, but for the concept of cars, period. We gawk at the latest models as if they were animals in a zoo. For instance, we don't have any real use for a white-faced Guianan Saki monkey, but at the very least we can appreciate its speed, sleek build, glossy color, and soft upholstery. Likewise, even though we could conceivably buy a Pagani Zonda Cinque Roadster in mango, we know it's not the sane thing to do. For a city that's denied its vehicular rights, the Chicago Auto Show is magical. Everything is so shiny! Free gifts! Beautiful women in tight dresses who can tell us what a car's zero-to-60 horsepower torque top-speed compression ratio is! Arcade-like interactive exhibits! The WD-40 girl! So much carpeting! At the auto show, we can finally get behind the wheel of our dream car and make all the "vroom, vroom!" sounds we want. And after it's all over, we take a taxi home. MA MICHIGANAVEMAG.COM 120_MA_BOB_AndFinally_Winter13.indd 120 1/2/13 4:30 PM