General Motors’ recent woes have an odd peculiarity to me. It was a Chevy Tahoe, which came from either the Janesville, Wisc. plant or one in Texas (I blame the latter) that was piloted by a drunk driver that smashed into my small car on the evening of March 10, 2000, and inexorably changed my life for the worse. I lost most of an eye, and more blood and brain cells than I can count. It also wrecked my marriage, which is a comman aftereffect of overwhelming traumatic injuries such as the one I survived. I’m sure glad to be here now, and wouldn’t even go back in time to stop myself from going out that fateful night. (Though I would advise my late self to take a bigger car that night.)
But as we all know by now, the last Chevy Tahoe rolled off the assembly line at GM’s Janesville plant yesterday.
If I had my way, there would be no more Tahoes, Suburbans, Excursions, Expeditions, or even Explorers.
But they do exist, and that created many jobs. Jobs, which, thanks to the nature of the beasts, as well as the state of the economy, are now being eliminated.
And that’s bad.