Driving Without a Destination is Watching Without Expectations 

The Stomping Lamp Part 2 – Cars (2006)

J. K. Tang

IT ROARED TO LIFE AND CHATTERED BENEATH THE COOL STEEL BONNET. Unsteady hands gripped the steering wheel, and a leather seat belt tightened me to its chassis. The mumbled rage and impatience swept into the quiet suburban blocks. Pale eyes gazed hypnotically into the side mirror and awaited the chance to strike. Suddenly, a red Corolla daydreamed into the sight of our taillights, and we found ourselves in the midst of Sydney’s winter holiday exodus. What to do for six guiling hours? 

Like most families, I was lucky enough to have an assortment of Pixar DVDs at my disposal. However, unlike some families, I had DVD players that brought the animated worlds onto my road-trips. My earliest memories of becoming a film fanatic were on road-trips to the Kosciuszko mountains. 

As I edged into the driver’s seat, I tuned into the scenery of southern New South Wales and the humble countryside of ACT. Refreshed by the tranquillity, the windy asphalt of Alpine Way always takes me back to my childhood and the classic animated spectacle, Pixar’s Cars (2006). More than an introduction into motorsports, the film’s postmodern filter reveals humanity’s hedonistic tendencies that often silence our exposure to the rural heritages of Western society. Since its rapid urbanisation of the early 20th century, America has disassociated itself from its ‘Wild West’ heritage and pivoted towards the self-sufficiency and independence synonymous with the average city-dwelling citizen. Mr Ralph W. Emerson’s overused phrase, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey”, resonates with the film’s subtextual emphasis on retrospectivity and reliance on our communities.

The Snowy Mountains Highway was my Route 66 and each town that it divided through became my Radiator Springs. Pixar’s allegorical race car critiques our idealistic lifestyles that excessively fixate on empty individual pursuits, like wealth, public perception, etc., and often forgo the feeling of belonging and security within one’s community. The visual juxtaposition of McQueen and the arid landscapes of the American canyons distinctly contrasts the superficiality of these idealistic lifestyles with the beautiful simplicity of rustic town living. This contrast discriminates and provokes capitalist attitudes that are fuelled by one’s overwhelming pride, envy, and greed— notable transgressions of Christian morale. The gradual passivity and warmth of the townspeople, not only facilitates the protagonist’s redemptive journey, but also encourages one’s nostalgic escape to the past.

Radiator Springs and the film’s larger focus on retrospectivity offers the audience the opportunity to see the world differently. A guide to America’s mountainous scenery teaches us to reject an ongoing search for what is to be and to find profound gratitude for what was.

  

Throughout the Aussie Winters, I found myself sinking into Lake Jindabyne and the stories of what was an old livestock route between Monaro and Gippsland. Before European settlement, the Thaua and Ngarigo Indigenous people inhabited what they called Jindaboine—an indigenous word for ‘valley’— and maintained many generations on Australia’s Alps. In the 1830s, the Pendergasts and Ryries established sheep and wheat farms across the valley, and later, in 1847, the Ryries built a flour mill to further advance the area’s agricultural industry. The mid-19th century brought the Kiandra gold rush to the Snowy River, which economically boosted Jindabyne into the establishment of a town. After the town’s major developments, esteemed Australian poet, Banjo Paterson, cemented Jindabyne as his new haunt and wrote “The Man from Snowy River ” in 1890. Over seventy years of development later, the town was relocated and submerged by the construction of the Jindabyne Dam through the Snowy Mountains Hydro-electricity Scheme.

Ultimately, Pixar’s Cars (2006) allows Western society to appreciate and reconnect with its rich history that was lost through capitalist hunger. Much like film, countryside towns are glimpses of the past and constantly reminds us of what was in a world that pushes blindly to define what it is to be.