The self-indulgent nature of Americans can be seen in virtually every aspect of our society. For some, obtaining the right image involves dressing a certain way with top-notch brand names for everyone to see. For others, a translucent blue computer case fits the bill. However, there is one image maker that transcends gender, age and ethnicity: the right automobile.

Whether you’re a newly-licensed teenage girl driving a Hummer H2 or an adult driving a Corvette through your mid-life crisis, the vehicle you own sends a message to others. Unfortunately, that message is not always welcomed by others.

Take for instance the aforementioned abomination happily known as the Hummer H2. The H2 is a direct result of the famed American motto “bigger is better.” Weighing in at 6,400 pounds, the H2 is definitely one of the safer vehicles to be in on the road, as long as you don’t mind killing anyone you should happen to collide with along the way. Actually, the only possession of yours in danger of taking a hit from this monster would be your pocketbook. Of course, if you can lay down the $50,000 plus tax to purchase one, getting less than 10 miles of gas to the gallon shouldn’t bother you.

Needless to say, the gas-guzzling nature of the H2 is going to upset some people — namely, the Earth Liberation Front. The militant ELF is out to get revenge on SUV owners and distributors for their polluting nature. On August 22, members of the ELF broke into a dealership in California and set fire to 20 brand spankin’ new Hummer H2s. Since 1997, North American members of the ELF are believed to be responsible for approximately $100 million worth of vandalism.

For the more pretentious among us, driving a giant SUV is no fun because no one can see you inside the vehicle. Therefore, you can also have Jeeps or motorcycles. Even though everyone enjoys hearing music blaring from a topless Jeep, it gets old fast. The pack of frat boys joyriding around the block continuously isn’t something I very much enjoy either. Fortunately, it seems the motorcycle has become the antidote for our Jeep owner woes.

Some argue favorably for motorcycles due to their stronghold in the gas mileage arena. What isn’t taken into consideration is the fact that bikers tend to travel in packs. I’m not going to lie to you — I have a small place in my heart that enjoys a caravan of Harleys roaring by, and I enjoy the wheelie shows provided by the crotch rockets in town. Moreover, many motorcycle owners are good people that honestly love their two-wheeled wonders. However, I’m infuriated by people who own motorcycles to complete their persona, or in many cases, provide it.

If you think my ranting couldn’t possibly go any further, you’re wrong — I’ve reserved most of my loathing and contempt for a class of cars that, in my mind, resides below the status of an El Camino with a flat tire.

Coming from small-town Iowa, I was used to seeing big trucks and 80s-era sports cars, or dirt rockers, if you will. When I moved to Ames, the only thing more astonishing to me than 10-cent Ramen noodles was a five-inch muffler on a one-inch exhaust pipe. I thought to myself, “These people must be out of their minds!” The stuff I thought only happened in bad movies was more real than I ever imagined. I was in a whirlwind of Type R stickers, turbocharged four-bangers, carbon fiber everything, and people that pronounced NOS as a word in itself. These were people that insisted on having the loudest, crappiest exhaust sound in town. These were people that modified their cars with K&N air filters and two-foot wings.

These were people I despised more than anything else in the world.

In a world where only aesthetics matter, these “Fast and the Furious”-style cars are dominant. Assuming there is a direct connection between looking fast and going fast, these people will spend thousands of dollars “upgrading” the exterior of their car with undercar neon lights, blue headlights, unpainted carbon fiber body parts, stickers, and spoilers galore. Upgrades to the inside of the car normally consist of more neon lights and as many gauges as possible.

I guess what angers me most about these people is the fact that their vehicle choice is all for show. I’ve always been the opposite, wanting a fast car before a nice looking one. But in the end, to each his own. You keep driving your souped-up car, and I’ll keep driving my dirt rocker — and I’ll see you at the next red light.