Sometime yesterday some lucky person became the proud owner of a VOLVO XC90 that was buried somewhere in the world. It was part of a VOLVO promotion with the Pirates of the Caribbean film - you know, the one with Johnny Depp.
It's not the first time this stunt has been pulled. The city of Tulsa, Oklahoma buried a brand spanking new Plymouth Belvedere in a time capsule outside the County Courthouse 49 years ago. It was covered in Cosmolene, a metal preservative, then wrapped in plastic and placed in a concrete and steel box. It's due to be opened next August and the car (or what remains of it) will go to the person (or his or her heirs) who most closely predicted the population of Tulsa in 2007. The car comes with 10 gallons of gasoline and 5 quarts of oil in the trunk. The glove box also has a packet of 50 year old fags, some tranquillisers and other junk that supposedly would be found in a typical ladies purse of 1957.
And I don't know whether we can count this but in the Seventies an artists collective called Ant Farm buried 10 Cadillacs on a farm outside of Amarillo, Texas. Half-buried, that is - their befinned backends were sticking out. They had to dig them up and move them in 1997 but they're still standing at Cadillac Ranch
"In May 1974 we went to Amarillo and began buying Cadillacs. It was a white-trash dream come true, buying and driving old Cadillacs on the windswept plains of the Texas Panhandle. In our search we visited every used-car lot in Amarillo and most of the junkyards. We bought a '59 Coupe de Ville at a junkyard for $100 because "it had no papers," as the guy said. "Don't make a shit to us," we said, "if you'll deliver it." He did. We bought a creampuff '62 Sedan de Ville from Guy Mullins Motors. It was a pastel yellow four-door hardtop and it ran so well that it was painful to bury. We found a silver '49 fastback but the guy was asking $700 for a it, a price we considered exhorbitant (the cars averaged $200 a piece). Stanley suggested we buy it and smash up the front end with sledgehammers in front of the proud previous owner. So we did in fact smash it, with the cameras rolling as the bewildered owner winced in agony. Our search for Cadillacs took us into people's backyards and private junkyards. At the end of two weeks we had the necessary ten cars and a spare."
I like this idea - burying gas-guzzlers. There's sompething symbolic about it. Particularly if they're left to rot back to their carbon components.
So I propose this. I reckon the Herald should buy one of the new Commodores - maybe the brutal SSV-Series V8 ("You don't just drive it - you become it") and bury the bastard somewhere in suburban Sydney. And then we have a competition on RADAR to find it. Oh yeah - they've got to chuck in 100 litres of juice, too. And in the glovebox will be a signed group nudie photo of Dominic Knight, Sian, fingers, Blondie, Vic, Garry, Chesty, Mountjoy and all the gang.