Whereas weighty automotive discourse was once limited to a (mostly) unilateral relationship between a small number of writers at top tier automotive magazines - the “buff books” - who made pronouncements to their loyal readers, the discourse has evolved into a 24/7/365 Twitter discussion among automotive “journalists,” various industry hangers-on, and layperson fans known as “Car Twitter.”
Undoubtedly, the loudest voice on Car Twitter is a millennial “hot take” specialist named Bradley Brownell. It is perhaps misleading to insinuate a comparison between Bradley and the proprietor of The Android's Dungeon & Baseball Card Shop (aka Comic Book Guy), because Comic Book Guy has a full head of hair and Bradley’s pate has already suffered from severe deforestation. Provided Comic Book Guy’s locks were reallocated from his scalp to his cheeks, the comparison would be more apt.
Although Brownell and I share some superficial commonalities - we are both passionate about automobiles in general and Porsches in particular; we both devote considerable time to following various motorsport series; we both have ties to Georgia - the similarities end there. Brownell and I have fundamentally different ways of viewing the world.
Brownell recently shared this tweet that set the denizens of Car Twitter aflutter:
My immediate takeaways from Bradley’s missive are:
His educational tenure at community college and First Generation College Student Directional State University failed to equip him with a fulsome understanding of Coase Theorem; otherwise, he would understand that smoking indoors is essentially an issue of property rights. Indoor smoking bans appropriate ownership of the air away from the firm that owns the establishment and toward non-smokers, who receive the luxury of smoke-free air for, um, free. A cursory glance at Wikipedia probably won’t help an unfamiliar reader gain facility with Coase Theorem, but reading this seminal economics paper will provide an elementary understanding.
He is suffering from a bit of cognitive dissonance: He believes that he is entitled to own an expansive collection of decrepit cars, including a rust-encrusted 1976 Porsche 912E, a 1997 Porsche Boxster, a “Safari”-themed 1995 Audi S6, several old motorcycles, and some other junk. Meanwhile, he also believes that he is some sort of automotive central planning Druid who can properly determine what other consumers ought to be allowed to own.
I haven’t arrived at my own hot takeaways by happenstance; I have met the voice of millennial car culture “IRL,” as they say. Both Bradley and I were in attendance at the 2016 Lone Star Le Mans held outside Austin, Texas at Circuit of The Americas (COTA). That weekend, Porsche had its usual VIP Hospitality setup for paying customers (yours truly), sponsor guests, factory driver wives and girlfriends, and local dealership whales. We were situated in a lavish suite overlooking the Porsche 919 Hybrid pit box at the end of pit lane. Next door, Porsche was simultaneously hosting a group of automotive journalists who were in town to drive the new, Subaru-engined 718 Cayman in the Texas Hill Country and enjoy a day of sports car racing at COTA.
I had a good friend who was part of the journalist junket, and we had made plans to meet up once he arrived at the track. Armed with the appropriate VIP credentials, I sauntered next door to the journalist suite while sipping a Shiner Bock. I expected to find the assembled Frank Bacons enjoying lavish environs and a veritable bacchanal of free alcohol and U5 prawns on Porsche’s dime. I was disappointed. Instead, the son of embattled Tiffany & Co. chairman Roger Farah stopped me and inquired “Hey, bro - where did you get that beer?” Apparently the freeloaders next door were not entitled to the open bar that the “civilian” VIPs were enjoying.
I liberated a round of Texas beers from the open bar and returned next door to drink with my old - and new - friends. As I was explaining what I was doing at the event, and clarifying that I had indeed exchanged nearly $2,000 of my hard-earned income (event tickets, lodging, airfare, transportation, etc.) for an experience that the influencer brigade received gratis, I was interrupted by none other than the King of Car Twitter himself: “WAIT! You actually paid for this?!? I don’t pay for anything” he smugly proclaimed.
I saw Bradley once more, at Porsche’s Rennsport Reunion VI at Laguna Seca in 2018. On this occasion, there was no opportunity to catch up with my fellow millennial Porsche enthusiast, however. While I was riding around the track’s infield in the passenger seat of a new Cayenne, I noticed the intrepid journalist laboring his way toward the Corkscrew while showcasing a fetching set of “saddlebags” on a Blipshift t-shirt. I had paid for the pleasure of Cayenne conveyance, and I wasn’t in the mood to stop-and-chat with a hitchhiker.
I can only hope that Bradley, after he ascends to his justly deserved position as Car Czar, will find me worthy to have owned my prior Porsche 911s - a 1996 Carrera and a 2007 GT3 - and my current car, a 2015 GT3. Fingers crossed.