The rise of monster trucks feels like an affront

The owners seem so unthinking about their impact on others. This feels like the supremacy of self-interest, a pointer to civilisation’s end point. The meaning: each to their own.

What does the proliferation of monster utes colonising our roads and carparks say about where we are now, as a species? Picture: Mark Bean

So to the cars that ate solace. Those monster utes colonising our roads and carparks, and what their proliferation says about where we are now, as a species. Does it mean a barnacling of safety around the flexing individual – and bugger the rest? For the owners do not feel like public-spirited people and this seems like the death of generous, thoughtful living. Of living outwardly, tuned into the harmony of a collective; of thinking about our beautiful, plundered planet and trying to do our bit to preserve it.

I place these shirt-fronting ute-zillas within a select category of serenity destroyers which also includes leaf blowers, jet skis and lawn mowers on a Sunday morning. But right now the king of master irritators is the mighty monster pickup truck, obscuring the views of fellow travellers and spreading itself across the obedient lines of shopping centre carparks. The owners seem so unthinking about their impact on others. This feels like the supremacy of self-interest, a pointer to civilisation’s end point. The meaning: each to their own.

Tank like? You may well scoff at the analogy but the largest Toyota HiLux is almost the same size as the Shermans used so effectively in WWII. This new breed blares a nihilistic message: The world is out to get me so I’m gonna wrap myself in the biggest bucket of steel I can locate, to protect myself and my kin – because it’s us against the world, Loser.

Recently I drove into a knot of slowness on an inner-city road, a snail of cars gawking at fresh carnage. A motorbike was on its side, its unconscious rider sprawled nearby. A worry of pedestrians had congregated around him and a monster truck involved in the crash had pulled over, riding up onto a kerb to let the traffic pass. Its proportions felt too obscenely wrong for this crammed world; the vehicle felt like an offence to the pedestrians and the rest of the traffic.

And do we now have to widen streets and reinforce multilevel carparks to accommodate the onslaught of these beasts, some of which weigh three tonnes? Australia’s automobile amenities were not created for them. As for the owners insisting they’re needed for towing caravans and trailers – er, how did that work a few years ago, let alone several decades? Cars not so monstrous managed it.

I almost feel sorry for the drivers come Christmas shopping time in crowded carparks. But no. These vehicles are an environmental affront with their big, gas-guzzly omissions. And just try leaving the city around 3pm on a Friday, peak time for the hair-raising duck and weave of the monster ute heading home, cutting you off, tailgating, blaring its horn, looming and leering, bullying and braying.

Tax them! Regulate them! These beasts sit tall with dangerous blind spots – pedestrian deaths are at a 40-year high in the land of their birth, the US. Vehicles like this aren’t built for our narrower streets. Particularly the colonial roads of inner Sydney, where they feel slightly ridiculous. Of course Greta Gerwig had them populating Barbieland after Ken’s takeover; those Mojo Dojo Casa Houses needed their automative hardware.

So what do these vehicles say about where we are heading? It’s the psyche of the wounded, fearful, threatened. Of billionaires preparing Kiwi lairs and preppers stocking cellars; of all the sub groups flinching from the world that the so-called elites have created to bleed us dry. These are the people now going it alone, thank you very much, as we witness the slow, sad death of democracy amid the roar of the strong-man dictators promising an elixir of certainty and safety. No wonder our younger people are so anxious and despairing. What are we bequeathing them? Monster utes, and all that they mean in our world; monster utes, the modern wagons encircling fragile camps. Them against the world, them against us.