Cars R’ Us (Literally)

Comparing the role of vehicles in the context of
Vietnamese vs. American culture.

Cars and Human Desire

Is there anything more manmade than a car? Wheeled vehicles have been thousands of years in the making, with the earliest evidence of their existence originating from 3500 BCE (1). As each century passes, our priorities as a society continue shaping the development of personal vehicles. What we see on the road today is a creation morphed by the demands of spanning generations. 

Despite the different car makes and models, it seems the global industry has come together over time to standardize certain vehicle features. Cupholders, sun visors, Bluetooth–aren’t modern cars just an accumulation of human desires? 

Cars are inherently inorganic–existing only as a product of engineering. Defined as “the application of science to the optimum conversion of the resources of nature to the uses of humankind,” engineering is synonymous with manmade (3). Each car part has been deliberately crafted and altered over time by the human mind to serve its distinct function–every fabricated component assembled into a machine tailor-fitted to our wants. 

Within the past few hundred years, cars have been like a lump of clay picking up dust and fingerprints as it’s gradually shaped by human hands. Rather than dead skin and sebum, cars have instead picked up bits of human desires and whims–retaining memories of the circumstances it’s been molded under. In closer examination of how vehicles are used today, we may reflect upon the bits of ourselves that have persisted over the course of human history. 

American Autos

Car culture is prominent in the United States–a pillar of the elusive American dream. Symbolic of independence and the nation’s ideals, American culture has widely adopted these automotive vehicles as part of its identity. Reflected in creative works such as the novel The Great Gatsby or movie Back to the Future, cars have a strong presence in American culture as an allegory for the nation’s freedom. 

In Back to the Future, time travel is depicted as a speeding car. Behind the wheel of the converted DeLorean DMC-12, Marty McFly isn’t only evading his enemies but also escaping his dreary life. The car gives Marty control of the circumstances he was born into by letting him meddle in his parents’ pasts and ultimately changing their future. As a result of the time machine and his friendship with his teenage father, the socioeconomic standing of Marty’s family is drastically improved in the present day. 

The American dream believes that everyone in the United States has the freedom and opportunity to succeed no matter where they come from. In Back to the Future, the time-traveling car is a physical manifestation of American freedom, depicted as a literal tool that grants opportunities for upward social mobility. The success that the McFly family finds is only made possible through the freedom that the DeLorean grants. 

Scott F. Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, on the other hand, uses cars to critique the American dream. In the novel, automotive vehicles are markers of wealth and power–specifically the power to do anything one desires. Car accidents at the hands of the recklessly wealthy are common plot points of the novel, written to emphasize the imbalance and destructive potential of freedom in the United States.

In American pop culture, cars are often depicted alongside other references to success, wealth, and power–the promised goals of the American dream. However, they are only ever pertinent to the development of the individual. 

Despite the grand and glorified depictions of cars in American media, the dreariness of late-stage capitalism has drained the romance of cars for the average American. With the United States being so largely spread out and sparse in accessible public transit, owning personal vehicles has become a necessity for many. These 4-wheeled vehicles are no longer a means to freedom and success but rather an appliance necessary to life in the 21st century. 

Since the introduction of car loans in the 1920s, any American could ‘own’ a car (4). Congruently, mass automotive manufacturing boomed and more people were on the road than ever–leading to the enforcement of driver’s licenses. Within the decade, owning a personal vehicle became the standard and a necessity for the working class. 

In an era fueled by a desire for aesthetic curation, cars have taken on a life of their own in the United States. Americans have developed deep emotional connections to their cars in the last century, with over half of current car owners bestowing names and personality traits upon their vehicles (5). As pioneers of car culture, the American people deem personal vehicles not a possession but rather an extension of their owner.

The U.S. is home to the world’s largest car modification market, with Americans spending an accumulated billions of dollars per year on vehicle personalizations. For many, customizing your vehicle is like getting piercings, tattoos, or plastic surgery–all of which being various expressions of identity. These modifications are assurances that people will perceive you the way you perceive yourself. 

Car mods are costly both in time and money, requiring heavy commitment and confidence in the decision. This thus begins a journey of introspection for car owners, requiring them to contemplate their understanding of themselves. Before registering for a “NIHILSM” vanity license plate or painting your car hot pink, you have to be certain that this public display of your character is accurate to your self-perception. For Americans, cars are not only used for transportation but multifaceted tools that aid in the development of self-image. 

Coming of (Driving) Age

Closely associated with self-image and confidence, cars have an impact on the development of many adolescents in the U.S. For the past century, the legal driving age has remained 16 years old in most states–a law that has steeped itself over time into American life. Although the celebration of ‘sweet sixteens’ originated from European courting traditions, this milestone age has taken on a unique role in the contemporary United States. Whereas Europeans in the past declared their coming of age by donning tailcoats and gowns in great halls, American teenagers now declare their newfound maturity by slinging car keys in hallways. 

In an age infamous for angst and rebellion, acquiring a driver’s license can play a crucial role in a teenager’s self-image. Behind the wheel, minors may have the most control over their life–a place where they have authority that no adult can overrule. No matter who’s in the passenger seat, it’s their foot on the pedal, their hands on the wheel, and they determine the destination. 

A film famous for its spirited representation of teenage independence and intergenerational relationships, Rebel Without a Cause best conveys this emotionally complex correlation between mobility and self-image. Without reliable parents he can confide in, the troubled teenage protagonist Jim Stark is only able to find where he belongs in the world with the help of his Mercury coupe. In the film, the tumultuous journey of teenage identity is depicted through the characters’ interactions with cars. 

Although Jim’s car allows him to escape from the suffocating dysfunction of his parents to become his own person, it also causes a series of events that ultimately kills his friend. The Mercury gives Jim the space to make mistakes that help him better understand who he is. Despite the movie’s tragedies that involve cars, the mistakes Jim makes behind the wheel results in drastic improvement of his life circumstances. 

For teens, independence and the space to make mistakes can build self-confidence and esteem that may have struggled to flourish under the watchful eyes of adults (not to say that mistakes essential to personal growth should involve car accidents). With younger generations spending gradually less time outdoors, American kids are being stripped of experiences fundamental to their maturation (6). Playing outside allows children to experience the world with autonomy, introducing developmental skills such as risk-taking and socialization–paving the path to independence from a young age (7). With this growing delay in developmental milestones, driving at 16 years old has become one of the first opportunities of independence available to American youth.

An Alternative

Car drivers are kept in bubbles of plastic and glass–keeping a steady distance between them and those adjacent when they’re outside of the home. In regions where car use is prevalent, people are spread apart–each vehicle owner is forced to maintain a car-length space from the next. It’s non-coincidental that the United States, defined by individualism, is so heavily reliant on cars.

Since the Industrial Revolution’s impact on manufacturing, it seems that cars have driven the American people more than they’ve driven their own cars. Infrastructural development for cars in the United States often takes precedence over people. More lanes are added onto freeways while sidewalks have narrowed in size and usability. Housing and commerce areas are built with un-walkable distance between one another, ensuring only those with vehicles may access certain areas. In place of third spaces such as parks or libraries, parking lots are built to accommodate the fact that the average American household owns at least two cars (8). Cars take up excessive space at the cost of distancing people.

Compare Los Angeles to Ho Chi Minh City. Neither cities are inherently walkable and both require those living there to own a vehicle–yet one city has adopted cars while the other motorbikes. Despite the Vietnamese government’s dedication to minimizing motorcycle use in the near future, the people of Saigon have remained fiercely loyal to their two-wheeled vehicles (9). 

In their own way, motorbikes also represent freedom and social mobility for the Vietnamese community–only there is less iconic media depiction of this analogy than on American cars. 

For a lower cost, motorbike riders gain mobility without severe financial burden but sacrifice the convenience afforded by cars. Without much storage space, the art of balancing large objects on a moving 2-wheeled vehicle has become integral to Vietnamese culture. Hans Kemp’s photo series titled Bikes of Burden best encapsulates the spirit of Viet motorbikes (although the title leaves much to be desired). Capturing various moments on the back of local motorbikes, the collection of photographs is emblematic of Vietnam’s effort to sustain their community based culture. 

Even without protective features afforded by cars (metal framing, airbags, etc.) and the government’s plans to ban 2-wheeled transportation, the majority of Viets refuse to give up on their bikes. No matter how times have changed, the Viet people have chosen to forego modern conveniences and safety precautions for the sake of their culture. This collective burden taken on by passing generations is the very thing that keeps their community alive.

Whereas cars are designed to isolate passengers from the outside world, motorcycles do the opposite. A driver can travel through Los Angeles for hours without making eye contact with another individual, yet it’s almost impossible to do the same in Ho Chi Minh City. In the bustling streets of the city, motorbikes ride side by side–relinquishing any concept of personal space. In contrast to the American emphasis on separateness, Vietnamese transportation encourages finding comfort around others. 

Take traffic jams, for example. Los Angeles is notorious for its rush hour road congestion which is often described as bumper-to-bumper traffic. Each driver remains in their mechanical bubble–acknowledging adjacent cars but never the individual driving. Car culture distances people physically and socially, thus playing an elemental role in the United States’ current loneliness epidemic (10). 

Wherein L.A. traffic moves in linear order, Saigon traffic moves like a bee swarm–chaotically in sync, each person finding their place beside one another. Motorbikes generally have fewer traffic restrictions than cars, thus allowing them to weave between lanes at whim. With so many bikes in Ho Chi Minh City, lanes have become a suggestion more than a regulator for locals. Eventually, the motorbike traffic will weave itself into a tight-knit tapestry of people. 

In still traffic, strangers choose to park shoulder to shoulder, rather than leaving a gap for the sake of personal space. In particularly extensive bike-to-bike traffic, it’s common for motorists to talk to others near them to pass the time. In a city with over 8 million motorbikes, each stop light is a chance for a unique social interaction. Instead of fearing the unknown of talking to a stranger, the people of Saigon fearlessly charge headlong into this obscurity.

Accidents on motorbikes are fatal, inflicting considerably more injury to its victims in comparison to car crashes. With sparse protection offered, bike riders are vulnerable to the actions of others. In a constantly shapeless, flowing environment like that of Ho Chi Minh City, riding through the streets is often an exercise of trust. 

While both cars and motorcycles can help build one’s self-confidence, only the latter allow for growth beyond the individual. For drivers, the confines of car windows not only prevent physical harm but also the potential for community building. Behind glass and metal, drivers have the privilege of imperviousness to the ongoings beyond the views of their windows and mirrors. This isn’t particularly an option for bikers.

 Oftentimes, the same degree of obliviousness on a motorbike can lead to much more severe consequences. The victims of a 2-car accident may survive to live long lives without ever touching one another. A motorbike crashing into another, contrastingly, is much more intimate, often ending in its victims tangled together in a gory scene of bloody flesh and metal. 

Without heavy traffic regulations, a rider is forced to rely on their intuition and steady awareness of those around them to prevent accidents. The self-regulation of Vietnamese motorbike traffic relies on the acknowledgement of people outside of our lives. While you may never see or exchange a single word with them again, 

Other Facets of Community

A combination of factors like government initiatives on antiterrorism after September 11th and rapid growth of true crime reporting through Internet podcasts, Americans are more distrustful of strangers than ever (11). This distrust promotes an aversion to opening up to acquaintances, resulting in standardized small talk that allows for social interaction while maintaining a safe emotional barrier between its participants. 

Conversely, Vietnamese chit-chat flows with natural ease and such casualness that it’s often difficult to tell whether two people talking on the street are strangers or relatives. Although minuscule in the scheme of things, receptivity to these brief interactions is important to not only oneself but the reinforcement of acceptance within a community. 

Manifesting in ways such as the natives’ friendly disposition or its architecture, Vietnam’s sense of community is deeply rooted in the culture. A composite of Indochinese and geographic influences, Vietnamese cities are often filled with ‘tube house’ architecture–series of interconnected, narrow buildings reaching eight stories tall. Opposed to the popular style of one-story, single-family homes in Los Angeles, tube house architecture shares walls between each building–ensuring there is no distinct end or start between families in Saigon. 

In comparison, the popular architecture of the car-dependent American suburb was designed to achieve the complete opposite result. The popularization of American suburbia launched when the U.S. federal government began developing suburban communities to address the country’s housing shortage.

Despite its purpose, such communities were only accessible to white Americans. Through redlining, the discriminatory practice that denied financial services to neighborhoods with large numbers of racial minorities, federal and financial institutions were able to segregate American communities. Instead, black Americans and other ethnic households were funneled into urban housing projects–laying the foundation for the blockade that will polarize communities for generations to come. 

Today’s Americans were thrusted into a nation whose communities were doomed by the decisions of its government from decades past. As property companies continue driving the sprawling expansion of mass-produced suburbs, the chance for creating widespread community disappears further from the American people’s reach. 


Frequently used as mixed-use buildings, tube houses often function as a business on the bottom floor. In having housing and public spaces in an accessible proximity, Saigon urban planning creates opportunities for social interaction and community building. However, mixed-use architecture is not unique to Saigon, with several major cities in Asia also known for their  innovative usage of space such as Beijing, China or Tokyo, Japan. Despite sharing similar infrastructural features that facilitate community-building, these countries report high rates of loneliness and isolation. Simply having the tools to nurture a community-based culture available does not guarantee that they will be used. 

Additionally, it’s important to note that Vietnam is also younger and therefore underdeveloped in comparison to its neighbours. While the Southeast country has grown into a hotspot for the Asian technology sector, its population hasn’t adopted technology into everyday life to the extent that its counterparts have. Automation in restaurants and delivery services have become popular in many areas around the world, allowing more opportunities for people to leave their homes without interacting with a single soul.

While the future of Vietnam is unknown, its people continue to fight against the technology that threatens to extinguish the spirit of our community. 


Noteworthiness

Whether admittedly or not, everyone yearns to be seen. Although brief and inconsequential, small talk is an act of acknowledgment. During this particularly isolating state of the world, a mindless gesture such as complimenting a stranger can have a profound impact on their well-being. In an automated world, it’s almost too easy to forget that you live among others once you succumb to the convenience of technology.

However, it’s important to be reminded that no one exists in a vacuum. As a major component of biological and personal development, a person’s socializing habits are overlooked in their importance in a post-smartphone world. The person we become is an accumulation of our experiences and relationships. Like lumps of clay, humans are molded by the hands of those who have touched our lives–those of noteworthiness. Whether a friend who has supported you unconditionally or a stranger who said the right words at the right time, anyone has the power to make a lifelong impression on another. 

Motorbikes and multi-purpose architecture are one of the few things that can help make a person’s life noteworthy by facilitating interpersonal relationships, but it’s the will of the people that make up a community. Without letting others in, a human will remain unshaped–an unremarkable lump of clay indistinguishable from the next. If we don’t have any noteworthy experiences to carry with us as memories, what would we take with us when we leave the physical world at the end of our lives?

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