Monday, August 20, 2012

Hey, Subaru: How many calories does shifting burn?



I know this Subaru ad is SUPPOSED to depict a supportive spouse/boyfriend doing everything he can to encourage wife/girlfriend to complete what I guess is supposed to be a grueling bike race.  He's making cardboard signs, he's at every turn to bleat bumper sticker slogans at her, and he's got pizza at the finish line.  Good for him.

But....I don't know why, but this whole thing comes off as forced, over the top and maybe even a little stalkerish.  I have relatives who have participated in marathons and other long-distance athletic events.  They certainly do appreciate the support of friends and family.  But the guy in this ad looks as if he's afraid that this woman is going to forget about him as she rides her bicycle.  He also acts as if he's the reason why she can make it to the end.   Maybe she's the problem- I may be wrong, but for one moment at the finish line, I get a "oh there you are,  I haven't seen or heard from you in several minutes, you got bored and went off and got a pizza you thoughtless jerk" vibe from her.  Then she sees that he's scrawled out another bumper sticker on the inside of the box, so they are all good.

I wonder if the girl really appreciates all this pushing, all this "I am part of this too"-ism from her guy.  I wonder if she appreciates the constant "you couldn't get through this without me" messages.  Most of all, I wonder if she wishes her guy were one-tenth as interested in vigorous exercise as he is in playing Supportive Spouse/Boyfriend while he drives Soon-to-Be Fat ass around in a Subaru, stopping every once in a while to wave a sign and buy pizza.

Personally, I'd settle for a "good luck, I know you can do it" kiss at the beginning of the race, and a cheer, a hug, and a ride home at the end.  And a partner who knew that the last thing I want to eat after miles of exhausting peddling and sweating is a spicy, cheap take-out pizza.   But I suspect that the guy in this ad doesn't have Clue One what a biker needs to recuperate after a serious ride, and the final scene is All About that stupid, cloying-cute sign.

13 comments:

  1. I don't think that she does know him. I think he really is just some guy who decided to begin stalking her along the bike route, in the hopes that his increasingly enthusiastic and creepy anonymous support would win her over.

    Sadly, it worked. A day after the race, her family reported her missing. Three weeks later, the police found her bicycle in the woods. Its front wheel was twisted, as if it were once stuffed into the back of a small car, and there was blood on the seat. A few feet away, they found a foot, still in its bike shoe. No other body parts were ever recovered.

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    1. It's like the kids in the ad with Nissan's Creepy Old Man. You just know their faces are gonna end up on a milk carton.

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    2. Wow that's dark, even for me! Congrats!

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  2. Why didn't he join her in the bike race? Spent his money on a Subaru instead of a bike, eh? So much for a bonding experience.

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  3. The look on his face as he lifts the pizza box says nothing to me as much as "sure, you pedaled your stupid bike, but I made this awesome sign, man I am cute, it's all about me."

    Naturally she thinks all this is adorable. Because guys write commercials.

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    1. Not just any guys..."Nice Guys" write these things. You just know that the single ones are all about how uptight women get and they don't know why.

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    2. "Nice Guys" who secretly loathe women because "they" are too "stupid" to see how wonderful the "Nice Guys" are.

      The bottom-line message for these "Nice Guys" is "None of these women who keep rejecting me is good enough for me."

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  4. As someone who used to actually do these bike races, I can say- as someone who also loves pizza- that eating that after a race was the last thing I wanted to do. Water, Gatorade maybe. Shower. Nap. Maybe we'll do pizza the next day.

    And I concur with blackferret64 in the true story behind this ad.

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  5. After watching this commercial (which causes me to dive for the remote to change the channel every time it comes on )I can understand why blacks hate us white people. lame lame and more lame. I want to punch that wussy red headed stalker in his fat head and shame on that girl for being so desperate

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  6. Your analysis of this commercial is completely irrelevant. This commercial is not for actual bikers, it's for the hopeless romantic family-oriented young (early 30's) consumer who looks at this and sees a wonderful story about being reliable and supportive. It sells the brand exactly how the brand wants to be sold. I think you're looking way too hard at this commercial & I also believe that you're not the target audience, so your opinion doesn't matter.

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    1. If my analysis of this commercial is completely irrelevant, what does that make your comment of my comment?

      You then give your opinion of the commercial- why is it more relevant than mine? I mean, you finish your post by saying my opinion doesn't matter- well, pardon me. I wasn't aware that I was supposed to be asking your opinion before expressing mine. My bad.

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  7. Also, the fact that you require approval of all your comments is horrible. Grow some balls.

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    1. Laura, all I can say is-- if your opinion of what having balls means involves allowing comments to be posted on one's blog without approval, please, go out and meet more guys.

      And if you think that requiring approval for comments is "horrible," you need to get out more, period. Your sense of proportion is really weird.

      The reason why I commit the Practically Genocidal act of requiring approval of comments is so that I can be quickly made aware when a new comment has been posted. In almost four years, I think I've rejected exactly TWO posts- both because they were off-topic, hostile rants. Your posts don't qualify- they are weird, they are hostile, but they aren't off-topic.

      Still- "grow some balls?" Really? Tell you what- you grow some respect for other people's opinions first. And some class. Then you can get back to me.

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