The People’s Republic of Desire

68 Fake Car, Fake Man

When former U.S. vice president Dan Quayle asked his Chinese daughter-in-law to name the first thing she wanted to do upon arriving in the States, her answer was simple. "Drive," she said. Quayle was shocked. Considering all the attractions the country offered, why would anyone choose to tackle traffic?

For many young Chinese, car ownership is something to aspire to. If they can't afford it, most feel they should at least have a driver's license to carry around. It's like a membership card.

Lulu had her driver's license for five years before buying her first car. It's a Chinese-made sports utility vehicle costing only 100,000 yuan – about $12,000. Still, it's a big deal for her. She owns something worth six digits, feels luckier than pedestrians and cyclists who must give right-of-way to cars, and also has an edge over the owners of the minicar Autuo, who are often bullied by bigger cars on the road. Some even have bumper stickers declaring, "My name is Au-tuo. My brother is Au-di. So don't mess with me!"

With an SUV, Lulu will never need to worry about being cut off. She feels majestic on the road. She sends her family a picture of her new car, telling them she's no longer a have-not in the automotive world. But they are not impressed. First, her SUV is Chinese-made rather than imported, so there's no prestige attached. Second, her family in the rural south thinks SUVs aren't really cars. Her brother writes: "SUVs are like pickup trucks – they are meant to carry goods, not human beings. Why didn't you get a real car, like a sedan?"

Lulu quickly responds, feeling obligated to educate her family on fashion in the city. She tells them that driving an SUV is chic among the middle class in the United States and in Beijing; it's even cooler than driving a standard Honda Accord.

"Americans pay more money for insurance and luxury taxes if they buy an SUV," she writes. "Pickups don't represent blue-collar workers. From business magazines like Fortune and Forbes, I've learned that when Silicon Valley was in its heyday, many CEOs drove their beat-up pickups to work proudly." A few days later, she gets a reply from her brother, writing on behalf of her mother. "Lulu, we are proud you have a car now, even if it is just a Chinese-made one. We hope that when you marry, you will be driven in a nice, big Lincoln town car, or a Cadillac, or your brother's dream car, a nice, blue Buick."

To many Chinese, an American car is prestigious. The Chinese share the American notion of "bigger is better."

From the tone of their letter, Lulu senses that her family isn't enthusiastic about her car. She complains to me: "Why am I always not good enough in their eyes? First, they complained that I don't make enough money. Now I finally get my own car and they think a Chinese car isn't good enough."

To cheer her up, I go on a ride with her in her new SUV. On the road, a Toyota 4Runner swerves dangerously, cutting us off. Lulu has to brake hard. She honks the horn at the Toyota and the driver gives us the one-finger salute.

Now she's furious.

Generally, Lulu is sweet and ladylike, but behind the wheel, she becomes an aggressive, bad-tempered bitch. She follows the Toyota to a gas station and hops out of the car ready to swear at the driver. When he gets out of his Toyota and fixes his eyes on her, her anger instantly fades. The man is a Chinese version of Brad Pitt.

"You getting gas too?" he says. His tone is friendly, as if the cut-off and gesture had never happened.

"Well, yes, I guess," says Lulu. I remain sitting in the passenger's seat, watching them.

"You like SUVs too?" the man asks.

"Yes, but yours is better," Lulu replies with a brush of her hair.

"Actually, mine is also Chinese-made, exactly like yours," he says.

"Really?" asks Lulu.

"I just changed the hood ornament and all the signs, and have replaced them with Toyota ones," he explains. "Now it looks exactly like a Toyota 4Runner. The switch cost me less than a thousand yuan. Guess how much a real Japanese import costs? Three times as much as our Chinese-made cars."

"What a bargain you got," Lulu says.

"Well, a Toyota is not my dream car," the man says. "My dream car is the new Cherokee SUV V6."

Lulu closes her eyes. I guess she is drifting into a daydream: the wind is in her hair as she drives off with him. But when she comes to and says, "I guess you love American cars too," he is already pulling out of the station.

And with a wave, he's gone.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Lulu scolds me.

"I thought you didn't like fake men," I murmur.