When Did Cars Become Spaceships? M y first car was a 1980 Volkswagen Rabbit. It was a hand-me-down from my mom, manual transmission. You never forget popping clutches, stalling left and right. The car was, let’s say, semi-end-of-life when I got it. It was a classic Volkswagen that, mechanically, ran forever. But it had roll-up windows and the handles had popped off. God knows where the real handles were. We had these vise grips I would use to roll down my window, then hand it to my high school buddies in the back so they could do the same. I’ve got 4,000 memories from inside that vehicle. Cars represent the mood of America. Recently, it’s been all about tech. So many modern cars are isolation machines: Don’t worry, this car will drive you everywhere. Don’t worry, it’s all in the software. Don’t worry, it’s just like a phone. The car loses its character. It has one giant screen, and you go eight layers down, and that’s how you heat your seat. It becomes a spaceship. I think Americans have become suspicious of that. We didn’t forget how to open a car door — you can put a door handle on the car. You shouldn’t need facial ID to enter your vehicle. We were promised that technology was going to make us more connected, but the truth is, we’ve never been more disconnected. American cars are cultural symbols. And today, we need to bring back the sense of connection that cars once gave us. Americans always want to embrace innovation, of course. But they still want nostalgia and romance and physicality. More distraction and more entertainment in the vehicle is not the solution. The Scout truck originated in the 1960s as a product of International Harvester, an agricultural company that made