It’s funny that the car is sort of the center of this fantasy of “the road,” “adventure,” and “American freedom,” and the idea that you can get anywhere if you only have a car. Because if you think about it, really think about it: cars make no sense. Maybe, even, they’re just a big capitalist lie of freedom and success. They are a super expensive investment that only declines in value. Whole cities and states have developed where you need a car to get anywhere, because you can’t walk down the street or bike safely to get some place else. It’s always disheartening to sit in the autoshop, waiting for some stupid thing that went wrong to get fixed, freaking out because that’s at least 300 dollars out the window, 300 dollars that you didn’t budget for and 300 dollars that will make things slim and difficult this month. The autoshop feels like purgatory because you’re united in your tough luck, the idea that you will have to pay money to leave this dreary place of weak coffee and rotating hot dogs on a stick.
Naturally, Lana Del Rey’s selling cars these days. Did you know that? It all dovetails quite nicely on a thematic level, I find.