Maybellene: A Young Man's Car

This post is a portion of a larger untitled work in progress and a continuation of the previously published post, My First Car ...

Having driven my car for nearly nine months now, I can honestly and realistically notice those personality traits that make her special. I say ‘her’ because all cars driven by young men must be feminine, and her name is Maybellene. It had taken me nine months to arrive at this name, but it was well worth the wait. Unique and memorable, I named her after the Chuck Berry song of the same title, which in turn acquired its name from the popular cosmetic brand. It was Berry’s first rock and roll hit and was influential in developing the genre.

Just as the song lyrics suggest however, there are a few problems with Maybellene. Although her exterior is sleek and her upholstery is sexy red leather, the rest of the interior is made of plastic. Well, one has to cut costs somewhere, but the areas of primary concern are the door handles, both inside and outside. Without a doubt, they will see the most wear and tear of the entire car, so it would only have been fitting if they were made of a more durable material. And in the frozen winter, between the ice forming on the outside handles and the increased brittleness, one must be very gentle.

Maybellene’s sunroof is also a constant source of her infidelity. The mechanism works well enough, but it is the shutter on the inside of the car that fails to operate properly. It is made from two separate pieces of board, one sliding over the other when opened. However, Hyundai somehow made this design very unreliable as the two pieces frequently came apart and jammed the whole mechanism. Thus, the sunroof has not seen as much use as I would like.

Another cosmetic issue with poor Maybellene is a circular piece of plastic that has come apart in her headlight. Originally, the ornamental ring was fixed around the low beam headlight, but it had never been fully fixed to the bezel since I got her. In an attempt to correct this, the entire piece came loose and began to roll freely within the epoxy sealed headlight. After hours of fruitless attempts to return the piece to its original place without breaking the moisture-proof epoxy seal between the lens and the bezel, I only succeeded in scratching the plastic ring and the bezel with a rusty coat hanger. 

Of comparable sports cars, Maybellene has the sportiest form I have ever seen by far. However, sportiness makes the driver sacrifice ride comfort. The suspension of the car feels pretty shoddy, though I am not sure what else I would expect from a sports car built for high-responsiveness, grip, and performance. A lot of the times, the ride does not bother me significantly, but from time to time, roads have not been properly made. Rough roads always cause me significant worry about what kind of damage is being done to my poor Maybellene.

Finally, there is the sad fact that Maybellene only has a four-speed gear box. One arrives at 45 mph and jumping into 4th gear, that’s all she has for you. You’re up at 3000 rpm, then 3500 rpm, then 4000 rpm, and there’s just no next gear. This is probably for the best, though. I’m pretty sure I’d have more than two speeding tickets if I had been given even one more gear to tempt me.

"Maybellene" on the day I got her

These foibles make Maybellene a real car, though; for no car is without her faults. It gives the machine a personality and a temperament, but despite these shortcomings, the most influential factors on the car’s persona are those that make you fall in love again, just like the day you got it.

I suppose I cannot say enough about the leather interior. It gives Maybellene that sultry debonairness that is tailor fit for young men. The “black widow” red-black color scheme assures you that if Maybellene is going to be the one to kill you, she’s going to do it with both visually-pleasing and sensational fashion in a James Dean-esque ball of fire, and the red leather interior plus bucket seats has much to do with that embracing experience.

Something else that is evident about Maybellene is that she’s not a mother or a nanny: she’s just a girl. She warns you that your seat belt might be off, but she is not incessant about the reminder, just a couple chimes of sweet concern for a few seconds. She knows you’re an independent man and she cannot tell you to do something when you don’t want to do it. She’s just not the nagging type.

Though I mentioned Maybellene’s limited four-speed gear box earlier as a regrettable idiosyncrasy of hers, I must also mention that it is a “select-shift” four-speed gear box, which makes all the difference. Sometimes, a man like me wants to be in complete control, but I’d rather not get embroiled in the minor details. Take operating a clutch, for instance: it is a detail about manual transmission automobiles that I have never handled with any amount of grace or success because I do not care to give it that much attention. With the select-shift mode, I let Maybellene handle those little details, and I just concern myself with shifting down on the tight corner, hunkering down to zip right into the ensuing straight-away.

It is often said that a young man’s first car is his first step to independence and freedom; that with this car, he was proceeding from boyhood to manhood. Therefore, it was important to choose this first car wisely, despite frequently constraining financial means, because this car was going to mean something sentimental to the driver, no matter how appalling or flawed. Maybellene, though, has proven a true companion, one with whom my adrenaline-fueled, thrill-seeking, speed-craving young life will be better spent.