No automotive white zin

Dear Hipster:

Everyone associates hipsters with fixed-gear bicycles, albeit sometimes unfairly, but why isn’t there a strong association between hipsters and any particular kind of car?

— Donny

Urban hipsters admire the boxy lines of vintage Volvos. They find it ironic to drive a “granny car,” but that’s clearly not the whole story, since we don’t see hipsters hunting out pristine K-cars. Volkswagens of all sorts satisfy the hipster who can’t afford a vintage Vanagon to better commune with the outdoors and tour with his indie-folk rock trio. Some 1980s Mercedes sedans can be converted to run on vegetable oil, which appeals to the hipster’s sense of ecology. Hybrid and electric cars do the same.

As you can see, the vehicular needs of the hipster cannot be met by a single vehicle, thus no perfect “hipster car” exists. Because hipsters come in so many flavors, linking the generic hipster to a specific style or model of car is like trying to find a wine that pairs with roast beef and filet of sole. You don’t want to end up with automotive white zinfandel, do you? The fine details of hipsterdom correlate to history, fashion, and culture. To be hipster is to be ever-changing, to seek out that which is (or will be) cool, and there is no platonic ideal of the hipster.

Contrast that to the hipster’s arch-enemy, the bro. The bro, from behind the wheel of his lifted Dodge Ram brodozer, strikes an almost eternal figure against the setting sun of suburban Southern California (preferably Orange or Imperial Counties, but San Diego does just fine in this regard). With his flatbilled cap pushed rakishly to the side, he brazenly rolls coal down crowded city streets, belching diesel smoke on passersby while his 44-inch Baja Claw tires shred the pavement in lieu of the off-road terrain they will in all likelihood never encounter. Bros have piloted lifted trucks since time immemorial and will do so as long as there is enough Monster Energy and Bud Light to fill a diamond-plate cooler!