Word: loreans
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American studies who could not make a dissertation of all that deserves to work for a living. As for De Lorean himself, there is an oversized, modern soap-opera quality about him (Who shot J.Z.?), enough at least to make us wonder where the plot hops next. All of which satisfies normal, healthy prurience, but hardly seems reason for De Lorean to have grasped the public imagination so strongly. The case is oddly troublesome, like a low buzzing in another room...
What interests us is related not so much to De Lorean the individual as to his objective in life and the way he destroyed it. John De Lorean not only wanted to make a car, he wanted to be one, like Ford and Chrysler before...
watching the replay of a national catastrophe. They say that De Lorean sort of resembled a car even before he built the De Lorean. His name sounds as much like...
...sought to be judged by performance. He changed his physical appearance, his "model," from time to time to suit the fashion. His dyed hair was once described as "limousine black," and now that it has been restored to a steel-gray is the color of the De Lorean itself. One can carry such stuff too far, but the fact is that De Lorean's whole life has been so closely associated with automobiles that he can barely be thought of without one's hearing an engine whir. It would probably please him to know that. America itself...
...John De Lorean grew up in a nation where the two-car family was a moral institution. The speed and power of the things. The style. The freedom they bestowed. Kerouac and Agee rhapsodized about the great American road, the arteries of the body politic. Kids made love in their cars and made love to them, in spite of a few dark heretics like Social Critic John Keats (The Insolent Chariots), who warned that someone was about to shoot the beast, and Robert Lowell, who, in the poem "Skunk Hour," tied cars to the sickness of the nation...