Op-Ed: An Open Letter To Honda and BMW: Sedan/SUV Crossovers Do Not Belong On Our Roads


Alright Honda and BMW; you win. You have annihilated me with your demonic morphage of Sedan and SUV that I have seen clobbering gracelessly down these once picturesque streets far too many times. That’s right, I’m talking about your sickeningly hybridic models, the Crosstour and x6, respectively.

How did we get here, Honda and BMW? How did we stray this far? How have you transformed so grotesquely from the righteous path of our sleek and sensual sedans, the Accord and the 3 Series? Even our PC suburban cousins, the CR-V and the x3 SUV, have a homey simplicity reflective of a simpler time in this nation, a time when there was no hunger for trendy blends of traditional automobiles, on which this great nation was built.

Honda and BMW, you used to be something. You used to have a little thing called integrity, called craftsmanship, called ANYTHING BUT THIS. We, the public, were fine before you unleashed your monstrous, dilapidated mutants on our roads. We consumers did not ask for this abomination. And when I say that I will genuinely not stand for this blasphemic illusion of a car for another moment, I am not alone. As founder, chairwoman, and treasurer of Mothers of Orange County Against Sedan/SUV Crossovers (MoOCASSC), I’m here to tell you that we are launching a campaign called “Down With Hellspawn on Wheels.” And do you know what, Honda and BMW? We will destroy you as you’ve destroyed our livelihoods.

Now, let’s talk about this ridiculous design. These half-breed crossovers look as if your weird cousin Marty decided to stuff his khakis with Marshmallow Fluff to disguise his pancake butt. It’s like your aunt Mildred who told you that she bought that hoop skirt “for the laugh,” but everyone knows that she’s overcompensating for that time nobody laughed at her standup gig in Big Billy’s Bar downtown.


Cut the crap, Honda and BMW. You’ve had a long ride, but we’ve depended on you for too long for you to pull the quirky card out on us now. You’re not a suburban third grader trying to reinvent herself on the first day of school. News flash: we’ve known you since pre-K, and an “interesting” new look won’t hide your insecurities.

If I see one more “fun” automobile desperately heckling me for some kind of “business in the front, party in the back” analogy, I might just cover myself into my signature watercress and caviar casserole and let the oven take me home.