Emissions Down Under: The Aussie male is a singular breed. Rough, tough and singled-minded in his motoring habits. Don't be fooled by their cunning ploy to portray an image of a reformed, cultured, international nation. The macho mindset is alive and kicking in rural Oz, writes Kilian Doyle.
And the ultimate vehicular demonstration of this testosterone overload is the 'Ute'. Aussie men love 'em, whether they'll admit it or not.
The 'Ute', short for utility vehicle, is basically a supercharged saloon crossed with the bastard child of a flatbed truck and a small jet fighter.The legend has it that the idea for the Ute began with a letter from the wife of a farmer to Ford in 1933.
"Would Ford build for me a vehicle: the front is the Coupe, to suit my need of taking the family to Church on Sunday; the back is to be the Roadster Utility box, so I can take the pigs to town on Monday?" it read. (Sounds like a similar letter was written by a Meath farmer to Mercedes in 1992.)
It's a blue-collar icon and symbol of freedom to Australians, rural and otherwise - much as the pick-up truck is to Americans. Over 70,000 utes and small pick-ups, about 9 per cent of the vehicle market, are sold each year.
The main manufacturers are Ford, Holden and Chevrolet although Subaru is leading the Japanese charge. However, many less enlightened Aussies (and let's face it, Ute owners by definition are less enlightened) would rather see their sister work in a brothel than drive a Japanese Ute. The pinnacle of "Uteness", the Roo-chaser, comes equipped with monstrous bull-bars, shotgun rack, beer-fridge and room for four utter loons.
Even the greener-than-thou crusties that congregate here in the tropical paradise that is Byron Bay drive monstrous gas-guzzling beasts, relishing in the power throbbing beneath them. I overheard a conversation between three self-righteous hippies that slipped neatly from an intense deliberation on the nature of chakras into a full-on row over the merits and demerits of a Holden V8 panel-van over a Ford 1976 Ute, without a touch of irony.
Outside the so-called "civilised" cities, the man who drives a sensible, fuel-efficient motor is derided unmercilessly and subjected to persistent innuendo about his sexuality and possible relationship with small animals.
Frankly, I'm not surprised. Don't get me wrong, I love this place and the people's devil-may-care attitude. But what can you expect of a country where the prison ramblings of deranged, self-mutilating psychopath Mark "Chopper" Read - who boasts of robbing and torturing drug-dealers and sliced off his own ears with a razor blade in order to be moved to a nicer jail - can top the bestseller list for months on end?
What chance has a nice 50 mpg three-door Japanese hatchback with built-in catalytic converter got in such a place? Although I do confess to being seduced by the lure of the beast. They even seem to win the hearts of the local police. An Irish friend here in Byron with a Ute pulled out his Irish licence, which he had attacked with a scissors, cutting off the top inch and not-so-subtly removing the word "provisional"!
"You can't seriously expect me to believe you get away with that?" I said.
"Course mate, the cops just love my baby!" he answered, pointing to his mongrel '89 six-litre Ford Ute with four surfboards in the back. I could see his point.