Yo Hoot:
Your post reminds me of that overused analogy about black and white vs. "shades of gray".
I know you weren't responding to my post, specifically, but let me just say this: As these trucks get larded with increasing amounts of "technology," they get harder and harder for us shade-tree types to play with and work on. As a guy who used to be able to replace a drive belt or head and keep his "eight-track" tape deck cranking out "House of the Rising Sun," I gotta say that I used to view the advent of the CD player as a mixed blessing. This was in the eighties, of course, when new CD players were both unreliable and cost five times as much as an eight-track.
CD players are great, now, but that's partly because they're also disposable: they've gotten so damned cheap, nobody even thinks about cracking one open to repair it.
The graph charting the costs of a new Ram looks somewhat different; if my throttle cable breaks (this happened on my '97), I know I can repair it (if necessary with a pair of vise-grips) and limp to shelter. I don't want to be hovering over a bank of micro-processors in the dark at the side of the road, and wishing I'd taken that correspondence course from M. I. T. But, that's just me...
I don't fault anybody for appreciating the technological advances present in his new Ram, but the rest of us are not Neanderthals, because we enjoy being able to "fix what's broke" on our vintage sleds either. Again, this doesn't have to be a case of "I'm brilliant, and you're an idiot. " The TDR is a brotherhood of like-minded Ram enthusiasts, and everybody drives his truck for different reasons, and enjoys it for different reasons.
I enjoy mine because it sounds and smells like a farm tractor, and I can skin a knuckle over it. For those of you that want refinement, quiet, and a Chrysler mini-van interior, I'm 100% behind your decision and wish you only the best.
When I was a kid, my family always had a Chevy Suburban. These things used to be built like Sherman Tanks, and you could stretch out in the back seat and sleep in a rest area. My father was driving through a blizzard on Interstate 80 near Snow Shoe, PA in the early '80s, when a tractor trailer jack-knifed in front of him. As dad swerved to pass him, the tipping trailer's wheel rims caught, and the load of lumber came slewing off the rear quarter of the flat-bed (strapping and all), and most of it tried to re-style the Suburban's roof and rear and side windows. Dad survived the encounter, largely because that Suburban was three tons of not-too-bright US steel.
Again, I'm not an advocate for "stupid" and brutish, but I think there's a diminishing return on some of this new technology, and we've damned near crossed that Rubicon. I can't fit into the latest model Suburbans. They've been so "Yuppified," and "down-sized," and padded with ergonomic creature-comforts, drop-down flat panel displays for the kiddies, cappuccino makers for the metro-sexual set, consoles that advise us (inaccurately) about our "mileage 'till empty," and CRT-directed HVAC systems, that I'm at a total loss when I occasionally try to sit in one. I feel like I'm in a video arcade instead of a truck. That's what a Suburban used to be, by the way: "a truck".
When the Hummer came out, it was kick-ass. Then they supplemented it with the "H2," which was universally acclaimed "an improvement". Now 80 pound women can look stylish as they transport their kids to ballet recitals, but car lots down here are overflowing with unsold H2s; periodically some GreenPeace agent drives by and torches them...
You know a lot of this is hyperbole, and I'm having some fun with you, but, seriously, a little technology in a working truck which is -- first and foremost -- designed to be tough and dependable, goes a long, long way.
And, don't knock candles, man. They may not be glamorous, but next time a hurricane (we've had four blow over us recently) leaves you in the dark for a week, you'll become a life-long worshipper at the altar of paraffin.
