Campus cars rev up students' passions

Author: Rachael Jennings

If you are in love with your car - if you've "gotta feel for your automobile," in the passionate and ever-cheesy words of Queen - then you are certainly not alone. Plenty of Middlebury students love their wheels, in whatever shape they are in, from a '97 Geo Prizm to a clunky ex-army "tank." These students hold the keys to a range of interesting automobiles, and whether brandishing unique appearances or carrying the cargo of fond memories, these vehicles add distinct character to every parking lot and major highway, just as their owners add their own individuality to the culture of Middlebury.

It is hardly news that Arizona is vastly different than Vermont. Kay, as Amanda Mitchell '08 affectionately calls her 1997 Geo Prizm, is a car of both these worlds. But, more importantly, she is a car of the memories that have occurred on the long voyage from sun-baked Arizona to white-washed Vermont. Last summer, Mitchell and her dad, a 64-year-old retired psychologist, journeyed cross-country with Kay, traversing the nation's highways and back routes and completing their trip in an exhausting 11 days. The adventure was cumbersome at times. Given that her father is over six feet tall, weighs about 200 pounds and has knee replacements, even getting (somewhat) comfortably inside of the tiny Prizm was an accomplishment. Those eleven days were plagued with car trouble and detours, and even before the wheels turned over the border of Arizona, they had to stop and replace the shock casings. In Illinois, Mitchell missed an exit and took her flustered father 50 miles off course - he was "literally jumping for joy" when they maneuvered their way back. Getting stuck in a rainstorm with her dad was one of Mitchell's fondest memories of her long expedition with Kay - Mitchell, a theatre major, exposed her dad to the soundtrack of Avenue Q. (She had wanted to listen to "Rent," but decided not to make him suffer, as he does not share her love of show tunes.)

In many cases, the cars students currently own are not always the most important markers of their lives behind-the-wheel. Kris Wilson '08 fondly remembered the first car he ever owned - a red 1990 Toyota Corolla. He purchased it as a sophomore at Middlebury for $75 from a friend working in the Office of Admissions who was returning to Bulgaria. Splitting the cost with two international friends, Kris only had to pay $250 dollars. "It was generally a piece of crap but it ran really smoothly and didn't have any problems," said Wilson. However, his two friends had no idea how to drive a stick-shift, so after teaching them how to maneuver it, Wilson left the car in their hands for a summer, during which he received unsettling e-mails about its current state. When he reacquainted himself with the Corolla, the pedals felt like those of a manual transmission, a guest driver had cracked the muffler and the cab filled instantly with gas. Nonetheless, Wilson, who had to attend a residential life training session at Bread Loaf, hauled his friends up the hill at 15 miles per hour as they coughed and got progressively more ill from the leaking exhaust. Once conditions became too dangerous for frequent driving, Wilson and his friends retired the crumbling car to the Center for the Arts parking lot, where it remained, unattended and decaying, for a year, thanks to its staff parking sticker. Each of the three friends were studying abroad at different times, and none wanted to be the one to let their first car - so full of memories and chemicals - go. Eventually, though, they realized that it was time to move on. Now, Wilson is without wheels, but learned an invaluable lesson to take to his subsequent automobile - "I look forward to my next car which will get regular maintenance, lots of love and only good drivers at the wheel," said Wilson.

It is not too difficult to spot Southern Comfort, despite its camouflage paint job. This ex-military vehicle certainly does not "blend in" with the black jeeps and red station wagons on campus. "It might be the most bad***-looking car on campus," commented Mike Bayersdorfer '10. Brad Dickerson '10 bought this car about a year ago, primarily because it has a diesel engine, and he was hoping to convert it to run on vegetable oil. It came in camouflage, and Dickerson thought that furnishing it with a more mundane color would detract from the obvious character of the vehicle. Yet, it is not just the color scheme of Southern Comfort that makes it unique - in fact, just hearing this car approach distinguishes it from the lot. Bayersdorfer, Dickerson's roommate, remembered a time that the tank-owner was trying to find his house. Dickerson called for directions, and Bayersforder could hear the clinking and roaring of the engine from quite a distance. "The street intersection he told me he was at was on the other side of town, and when I went outside I could still hear his car from my house," said Bayersdorfer. This environmentally ambitious, militant, clamorous car is certainly a celebrity at Middlebury.

This last vehicle, Middlebury's very own Zipcar, is truly a champion of the people. Dotting the campus parking lots, these new Toyota Hybrid Priuses - convenient and economically friendly alternatives to the hassle of bringing and registering a car on campus - are pleasant little vehicles that not only ensure a better future for the environment, but also help diffuse local traffic. Now, anyone can jump into these automobiles with a swipe of a Zipcard, ready to hit the road on a full tank of gas. Joining Zipcar for only 35 dollars a year, along with extremely low charges for weekly or hourly rental seems easy enough. "You don't have to maintain your own car, or pay for gas or insurance. It is really a money-saver," commented Thea Francel '11, who does not have her own car at the College. By adding the Zipcar service this year, Middlebury has joined the ranks of institutions such as Yale, Carnegie Mellon and Columbia, which also offer the communal vehicles on loan. Quiet, clean, affordable and only present when desired, the Zipcar certainly lives up to its catchy slogan: "Wheels when you want them."

Cars, in an isolated town like Middlebury, Vt., are students' best friends. They are there when you need to make a quick trip to Burlington, ready to take you into the lights and striking chaos of New York for a weekend and prepared to bring you safely back into the mountains when you are ready to return for class. And, though often overlooked in the peak of winter, they are omnipresent . . . under a few layers of snow. They hail from all over, come in as many colors and are decorated with as many stories as the students who drive them.