There are timeless cars, and then there are classless cars. Cars like the original Land Rover and others don’t really say much about your demographic. The Queen can have a Rover, and so can a farmer. The thing is, though, even with cars like the Land Rover, the image still caries an air of dignity. You don’t necessarily associate it with wealth, but at least here in the States, you do associate it with class. I would venture to say that here in the U.S., there is only one car that could pull up to a redneck bonfire party in rural Alabama or the Sebonack Golf Club in Southhampton and look completely at home. That car is the Jeep Grand Wagoneer.
I love the Grand Wagoneer. It is one of the coolest SUVs on the planet, and were it not for the lack of airbags I would very much want one as a daily driver. Ever since Top Gear turned every geared into a wannabe journalist-expert, it has been nearly impossible to read about a car without being barraged with hyperbole and exaggeration. The statement I made above is not an exaggeration; I mean it quite literally. There are other cars that simply don’t tell you about the owner’s socioeconomic status. A poor person can drive a Ford Mustang or a Jeep Wrangler, or even a Prius, and so can a rich person. The Grand Wagoneer, on the other hand, accentuates the image of a person on either end of the spectrum. It makes a trailer home look just a little bit more hickish, and a Nantucket vacation house look just a little more snobbish. As for everyone in the middle, it makes just about anyone who drives it look inexplicably and incredibly cool in an “I don’t care what you think” kind of way.
God I want one of these.