I'm Branded

I live in metro Detroit and I drive a Japanese car. This was not planned, but it is fact. Since moving to Michigan, I have experienced what it feels like to be in the motorists' minority. Often, in traffic or in parking lots, I have the only Japanese car in sight. It actually was manufactured in Japan.

Before I moved to Michigan, my 2007 auto got attention because it has manual door locks and crank windows, by my request. Now, however, I find just driving my car down the street can garner attention, and not all of it positive.

The thing is: I understand. In this economy, my Japanese car is a symbol of losses in Detroit: losses of jobs, market muscle, a way of life, pride.

In the Dearborn area, an SUV that shall remain nameless tailgated me for a curiously long time even though I kept pace with traffic. (The thought crossed my mind that, with the size disparity, I could drive my tiny car up a tailgate ramp and piggyback a lift inside the SUV.) When I get in line to merge from three to two lanes, I find I can expect a leisurely interval to pass before someone lets me in. My car gets stares when I'm simply pumping gas or hanging a Michigan left. These events might happen to anybody, true, but they happen to me so frequently that I accept the message is being sent.

So be it -- no hard feelings. If it makes anyone feel better, please know my husband drives a Mustang.