In the Hunt: Unauthorized Essays on Supernatural Read online

  Yet while the members of the Winchester family are more enmeshed with each other than most, the Impala undoubtedly has the closest relationship with Dean, and his affection for her is unabashed, as this exchange from “Bloodlust” (2-3) illustrates:

  DEAN: Whoa! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?

  SAM: You know, if you two want to get a room, just let me know, Dean.

  DEAN: Don’t listen to him, baby. He doesn’t understand us.

  For all his teasing, Sam does understand; his Christmas presents to Dean in “A Very Supernatural Christmas” (3-8) are beef jerky and motor oil. As Dean says, “Fuel for me, and fuel for my baby.” The final shot of the Christmas episode pulls back to frame Sam, Dean, and the Impala in the same shot, to show her sharing in this family occasion.

  The Impala is Dean’s only constant, as those closest to him, in one way or another, leave him. We see how strongly Dean is attached to the Impala by his reaction on the rare occasions when they are separated-and unlike Sam or John she never abandons Dean willingly. When the shapeshifter in “Skin” steals her, Dean complains, “The thought of him drivin’ my car… . It’s killin’ me” (1-6). It takes Andy’s “Obi-Wan” mind powers to part Dean from her in “Simon Said,” (2-5), and in “Red Sky at Morning” (3-6), Dean has a full-blown panic attack when Bela has the Impala towed, a stronger reaction than he had when she shot Sam! Life without her is unthinkable, and even in the alternate reality created by the djinn in “What Is and What Should Never Be” (2-20), the Impala is present, no longer a hunter but a civilian like Dean, with just a copy of Maxim and some burger wrappers in her trunk rather than her usual cache of guns, knives, and rock salt. There is no stronger indication of Dean’s love for the Impala than the fact that Dean’s last words to Sam in “No Rest for the Wicked,” as the clock strikes midnight and the Hell Hound sniffs at Dean’s soul, are: “Keep on fighting, and take care of my wheels.”

  For Dean, being behind the wheel means being a man in charge: “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole” (“Pilot”). But it’s not just about choosing the tunes. When everything is going to hell in a handbasket around him (and in the world of Supernatural, sometimes this is happening quite literally) and Dean is overwhelmed with emotional turmoil, presenting Sam with the façade that he’s coping becomes paramount. Significantly, as Dean struggles to keep it together in season two, burdened with grief and guilt over John’s death and the fear of what Sam may become, Dean stays behind the wheel throughout and Sam is never seen driving the Impala.

  Dean, he of the “no chick-flick moments” mentality, often relies on the Impala to help him express what he can’t. In times of turmoil, Dean locks his emotions away more securely than the Impala’s trunk with a devil’s trap on it. When he is worried about how Sam is dealing with the trauma and grief of Jess’s death in “Wendigo,” he doesn’t hug him, or have a deep and meaningful conversation about life and loss-he asks Sam if he’d like to drive. A significant gesture from him, made clear by Sam’s response: “In your whole life you never once asked me that.”

  Later, in the aftermath of John’s death, Dean can’t articulate his grief. Like the Impala, he is broken, and he starts what seems to be the insurmountable task of fixing things, fixing himself. “We’ve got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? And the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car” (“Everybody Loves a Clown,” 2-2).

  In season three, as Dean grapples with having less than a year to live, Sam again challenges him about having shut himself off. He pleads with Dean to be his “big brother” again. Dean allows Sam back into his emotional sphere by lifting the hood of the Impala to expose her broken inner workings, trusting that Sam can help fix things. There can be no clearer sign of unconditional trust and love from Dean than letting Sam near the Impala’s carburetor with a wrench.

  The Impala also gives Sam a chance to express his feelings, particularly about Dean. In season one, Sam rediscovers his role in the family, renewing his relationship with both Dean and the Impala. Dean wants Sam to stay, and is happy to let him in the driver’s seat. In “Bugs” (1-8), Dean emerges from a seedy bar after a hard night of hustling pool to find all six-foot-four of Sam sprawled across the hood of the Impala. It’s a sign that Sam is comfortably back in the family unit-and also that he’s a typical bratty younger brother, subtly challenging Dean’s position of older-brother-in-charge. Of course, in latter seasons Sam wouldn’t lounge on the Impala. Not only has his relationship with Dean evolved, but he’s bulked up quite a bit and these days he would crush her like a tin can!

  On a more somber note, during “In My Time of Dying” (2-1), when Dean lies in a coma and the Impala lies smashed in a junk yard, Bobby suggests there is nothing of the car worth salvaging. Sam, however, counters, “Listen to me, Bobby. If there’s only one working part, that’s enough. We’re not just going to give up on …” Bobby, God bless the sensitive heart under that gruff, pig hat-wearing exterior, knows immediately that it is Dean about whom Sam is talking.

  Just like Sam and Dean, the Impala has Daddy issues. The Impala was John’s car first; he was a mechanic, so we can assume he restored her. As his life changed, the Impala was the one reminder of the man he had been, before he became an obsessed demon hunter.

  We know John gave Dean the Impala, and while we don’t know exactly when, it must’ve been a significant occasion-an anointing, if you will, of his oldest son. To Dean, the car represents John and his mission. In accepting it, Dean stepped into his role in the “family business” and acknowledged that he wanted to be just like his father. We know that deep in his subconscious, which we visit in “Dream a Little Dream of Me” (3-10), Dean continues to see the car as John’s and as a signifier of his father’s influence on him even after his death.

  After he gives the Impala to Dean, John retains his role as patriarch by replacing the Impala with a monster truck-bigger in every way than the Impala, with much larger, not at all phallicly significant, weapons. The separation of John from the Impala is a sign of him disconnecting from his family, his heart, and without her he becomes a loner, focused solely on his vengeful quest.

  When John reunites with his sons in “Dead Man’s Blood” (1-20), he makes a crack to Dean about the state of the car: “Dean, why don’t you touch up your car, before you get rust? I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.” John is reasserting his paternal authority-reminding Dean where the car came from and who the car represents. In other words: respect the car, respect me.

  After John’s death, with the Impala a wreck, Dean drives a loaner from Bobby in “Everybody Loves a Clown” (2-2): a family van with soft pop, rather than cock rock, playing on the radio. In Freudian terms, he experiences the loss of his father (the phallus-owner) as castration: “I feel like a freaking soccer mom.” Beyond the purely Oedipal, this can more broadly be seen as Dean having lost the power to act. He has no clear enemy to fight, and he has no idea what to do with the enigmatic warning John has left him about Sam.

  One of the arguably most powerful moments in the show-and in Dean and the Impala’s relationship-comes when he turns against her at the end of this episode. Sam breaks down and reveals to Dean his deep grief over John’s death and his regret that he never got a chance to reconcile with him. As he leaves, Dean turns to the Impala, which he has been repairing, and in a heartbreaking scene, pounds into her with a tire iron. Over and over. Seventeen times, as grief smashes into him, he smashes into the Impala. Demolishing what he loves, what he has been trying to restore. Expressing his rage at his father, for causing Sam this grief, for abandoning Dean, for leaving him with the guilt of knowing John died for him, and for charging Dean with the unthinkable: the task of killing Sam.

  This symbolic destruction of the father, of that which John used to appoint his son as his successor, also suggests that Dean is going to follow a different path than his father. In the next episode, “Bloodlust,” the Impala is back on the roa
d with Dean at the wheel. At first, it appears as if Dean is following full-bore down John Winchester’s road, as he takes on the hunt for vampires with a frightening intensity. However, by the end of the episode, Dean has started to question the values his father taught him-that everything supernatural is evil. This is developed throughout this season and the next, as Dean time and again tries to pull away from hunting, questioning the cost of what he and Sam do, and as he starts to see the world in more ethical shades of grey than John Winchester did.

  To Sam too, the Impala represents his father and his mission. In “Scarecrow” (1-11), he is frustrated that John has made contact with them only to send them on another hunt while refusing Sam’s plea to let him join in the search for the demon that killed Jess and Mary. Sam storms out of and then walks away from the Impala-symbolically rejecting his father’s authority. Dean, however, accepts his father’s directions, and stays with the Impala and the hunt. Later in “Dead Man’s Blood,” it is when Sam is driving the Impala that he ceases to follow John’s directions, and uses it to stop John’s truck in its tracks and challenge his father’s authority.

  Another example of how the Impala links Sam with John can be seen after Dean’s death on Wednesday in “Mystery Spot.” Sam transforms into a version of his father-fanatical and revenge-driven, although slightly neater. The Impala too changes back to John’s car-complete with anal-retentively organized weapons in a pop-out compartment in the trunk.

  And let us not forget that the Impala is integral to the story as a car. Supernatural is a quest story of the sort that has been around since Odysseus was a boy. All heroes need transport, be it Jason’s Argo, Don Quixote’s Rocinante, or the choppers in Easy Rider. Sam and Dean follow their heroes’ path in a Chevy Impala. The physical journey is merely a reflection of the characters’ internal journey, their own search for meaning and purpose and truth.

  The Impala’s meanderings back and forth across America with no clear destination or goal reflect the postmodern project of constructing self, where the old truths are broken down and nothing is assured. The boys are on the road to nowhere-and everywhere. The mission statement for the Winchesters-“saving people, hunting things”-is continually challenged and disrupted as the series progresses. Sometimes the people are evil, and the things need saving. Later it turns out the things (ghosts and demons) actually used to be people. Even saving each other is problematized for the brothers, when it turns out Sam might be the Antichrist and saving Dean from his deal may mean losing a war against Hell. And in the Winchesters’ world, not even death-or at least staying dead-is certain.

  The Impala fights alongside Dean and Sam, nurtures and supports them, and undoubtedly would charge into Hell to save them. Her role in Supernatural has gained her an enthusiastic following from fans, who have christened her “Metallicar” in reference to her favorite type of music, and her image can be found on merchandise from trading cards to collectible plates. The Impala isn’t just another TV muscle car; she embodies the heart and soul of this show. The Impala is a Winchester.

  JULES WILKINSON was raised by television in the wilds of suburbia in Melbourne, Australia. This explains a lot, particularly her ability to sing the alto harmony to every TV theme ever written. Her extensive work as a freelance writer includes news reporting, ghost writing a health advice column and reviewing everything from restaurants to gay porn videos. Jules’ stand-up comedy has confused, and occasionally amused, audiences at festivals around Australia. She is also part of the team behind the Wiki site www.supernaturalwiki.com, which documents everything about Supernatural and its fandom.

  One of the more unique aspects of Supernatural is the fact that it has only two main characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, the show’s central protagonists. Sure, other characters come and go-most of them die horribly-but apart from Sam and Dean, has any other character appeared in virtually every single episode? Only one: Dean’s ’67 Chevy Impala, the “Metallicar.”

  So why is an ancient, gas-guzzling muscle car such an essential part of the Winchester brothers’ journey? Mary Fechter explores the physical, emotional, and metaphorical importance of the Impala in Supernatural’s mythology.

  MARY FECHTER

  RIDING DOWN THE HIGHWAY

  Why the Impala Is the Third Main Character

  She was there for them the night their mother died.

  She carried them through their childhood as their father chased his vengeance.

  She took them on their quest to find their father.

  She saved their lives in an impact with a semi.

  She hides their secrets.

  She is the Impala.

  THE CONNECTION TO THE PAST

  The only constant in the lives of the Winchester brothers is Dean’s 1967 Impala, a fact made clear from the first act of the pilot episode, where John cradles his sons on the hood of the car as their house burns. In the next act, twenty-two years later, grown-up Dean and Sam walk from Sam’s apartment to that same vehicle.

  Since childhood, they’ve known only temporary homes and motel rooms. Whatever belongings that traveled with them had to fit in the Impala or be left behind. Her roomy interior was their playground as their father followed his grim path. Imagine young Sam and Dean on the endless road trip, teasing each other, fighting, wanting to stop to eat or go to the bathroom, likely driving John crazy. The practical jokes shown in “Hell House” (1-17) might have begun on those long-ago drives as the boys entertained themselves.

  How long did it take before the Impala wasn’t just a means of transportation, but a home in herself? Dean longs so much for a home, and is more attached to the Impala than Sam is, because it is the only home he’s known, the only thing he took from the home where his mother died. Sam had a home with Jessica, and he doesn’t remember anything about living in Lawrence. Dean does. He’s so connected to the vehicle that even when they are on the run from the FBI, he can’t give it up, even when keeping it could cost him his freedom. As much as Dean has sacrificed, giving up the car is a last resort.

  THE IMPALA AS LEGACY

  John was a mechanic before Mary’s death and probably restored the Impala himself. Later, he taught Dean to take care of the vehicle, one of the “normal” activities they did together. Dean craved anything normal and adored his father, so this time together must have been treasured. Imagine young Dean soaking up every minute with his hero, absorbing every word that came out of John’s mouth. Perhaps John told him the car would belong to him someday.

  Sam and John didn’t share the same connection. If they had, if Sam had shown interest in the car-in their work-would his relationship with John have been different? If they’d found more common ground, would John have been able to let Sam go to college without fighting? John understood Sam wanted more than the hunting life.

  John’s death turned the Impala from merely a connection with their past to a legacy, the only thing, besides his life, that John had left to pass on to his sons. After John’s death, Dean was determined to repair the vehicle he loved, the physical tie to his father.

  Sam offered to help restore the Impala, partly to be close to Dean in his grief, but also needing to be close to the memory of his father. After seeing his father again, renewing their relationship even if not quite forgiving him, Sam was devastated. Dean refused Sam’s help, torn up with guilt over being the reason John died, but also because the love for the car was something he and his dad had shared, something Sam didn’t have a part in. Dean guarded his and John’s closeness in his grief.

  When Sam confronted Dean about his own feelings about John’s death, Dean denied his pain. But when Sam walked away, Dean took out his anger and helplessness on the Impala, striking it again and again with a crowbar, destroying all the work he’d put into it. The hunting life had taken that toll on their family-destroying all of them either by taking their lives or coloring their souls so they could never have a normal life. He was angry his father was dead, but also angry at the responsibility, the job, and t
he secret John had left him.

  In season three, Dean had a year to live after bargaining his soul for Sam’s life. After he got past the carpe diem attitude, he started to think about what he was leaving behind and realized it wasn’t much. Meeting Ben, and believing temporarily that Ben might be his son, in “The Kids Are Alright” (3-2), brought this home. His only physical possession is the Impala, and when he tried to talk to Sam about taking care of the car, Sam shut him out. Sam couldn’t envision continuing on his own, even though the release of the demons from the Devil’s Gate was his responsibility. To Sam, learning about taking care of the Impala meant he was going to have to go forward on his own. Just as Dean didn’t want to go forward on his own when he thought Sam had the demon virus in “Croatoan” (2-9), or when Sam died in “All Hell Breaks Loose” (2-21, 2-22), Sam didn’t want to do the job alone. But even so, he knew the Impala would be part of the fight, a tangible tie to Dean and his father after they were gone.

  THE CONNECTION TO THE JOB

  Throughout it all, the Impala ties the Winchesters to their job. She enables them to travel back roads to find the places evil hides. Her trunk, big enough to hide a body, contains their weapons, ammunition, charms, research books, and a dream catcher. Her 427 engine gets them to a case in a hurry, or out of town fast. Her skid plates help protect her when she drives into a haunted house or over a rough country road to escape a haunted truck. Many Americans find freedom on the open roads, but the Winchester brothers don’t find freedom from their job even there.