Bumperstickers, to me, are a kind of precursor of Facebook. I don’t partake in Facebook because my miserably puny ego cannot begin to imagine there is one person out there in cyberspace, let alone millions, remotely interested in what I did yesterday or what I think of today, or what I think of anything. Similarly, I assume that the people in the car behind me have little interest in who I voted, or plan to vote, for. Neither do they care that I want to free Tibet or Texas, am ALREADY AGAINST THE NEXT WAR or that my daughter is an honor student at Dingledum High.
It strikes me as a very strange, and I think almost uniquely American, need; this urge we seem to have to tell everyone around us such facts about ourselves. It’s only, what, three generations ago at the most, that no-one would dream of telling anyone how they voted – even if someone asked, which of course no one would. Now we apparently feel compelled to scream it to all those complete strangers who chance to glance at our car. I’m no psychologist but surely it must be all about ego? My candidate is better than yours. My causes are greater than yours. I am right and so, if you think differently, you are wrong. I’m a better parent than you, see, with my honor student daughter and my son who plays football for the Dingledum Dummies. And I proudly display a Dingledum University sticker, managing to imply even higher levels of success. I even have a better dog than you, as I proclaim BULLDOGS ARE THE BEST BREED.
Sadly, these things have now gone beyond simple proclamations. They are frequently derogatory, angry, and confrontational. That poor Honor Student particularly seems to attract attention, as in MY KID CAN BEAT UP YOUR HONOR STUDENT, or MY SON IS FIGHTING FOR THE FREEDOM OF YOUR HONOR STUDENT. No longer content with advertising how we vote, or don’t, we now have to add a comment. VOTE DEMOCRAT. IT’S EASIER THAN WORKING or VOTE REPUBLICAN FOR GOD, GUNS AND GUTS.
In our gun-crazy, polarized, society, I am constantly surprised that those kind of bumperstickers don’t engender more violence, and also those commanding that you HONK YOUR HORN IF YOU’VE FOUND JESUS, HONK IF YOU HATE OBAMA or HONK YOUR HORN IF YOU SUPPORT GUN CONTROL, the latter a clear invitation to be shot, if you ask me. Al Capone supposedly said that an armed society is a polite society but that doesn’t seem to hold for bumperstickers!
Some stickers, I have to say, are creative and funny. There’s little that cheers me up faster when I’m stuck in a traffic jam, than a good laugh at the bumpersticker in front of me. A WOMAN NEEDS A MAN LIKE A FISH NEEDS A BICYCLE is one of my favorites, along with TV IS GOODER THAN BOOKS and INVEST IN YOUR COUNTRY – BUY A CONGRESSMAN, and one most of us can relate to, INSIDE EVERY OLD PERSON IS A YOUNG PERSON WONDERING WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED.
I confess I have not always been totally immune to bumpersticker appeal. My car sported a U.S. NAVY sticker when my oldest stepson signed up, to be joined by U.S. MARINES SEMPER FI when my youngest went that direction. But that was simply to show my support to my stepsons, not to anyone else. Which of course is probably, in large part, the justification for all those honor student stickers. I only once succumbed to the political cause sticker, and that was in 1992 when I felt strongly enough about it to post VOTE NO ON AMENDMENT 2 on my bumper.
As I waited at a stop sign in Denver one day, another car pulled up close behind and a man with a tire iron in his fist jumped out. He ran at my car, yelling queer abuse, and brought the iron bar down just as the traffic cleared and I was able to gun the car forward. The blow broke the rear side window and I sped into the nearby King Soopers parking lot where I knew there would at least be a security guard. But the crazy guy didn’t follow, and that was the end of the incident.
And, call me coward if you like, it was also the end of my brief involvement with bumperstickers.
© January 2015
About the Author
I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.
