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Bay Area car shoppers rush to dealerships as Trump administration's 25% tariffs loom

Bay Area car shoppers rush to dealerships as Trump administration's 25% tariffs loom

CBS News31-03-2025

The
Trump administration's 25% tariffs
on imported passenger cars and light trucks are having a noticeable effect on car buyers, as many rushed to dealerships this weekend to make their purchases before the new tariffs take effect.
Edgar Cruz, a Fremont resident, was one of many customers who took the plunge. As he test-drove a Subaru WRX at Premier Subaru of Fremont, his face lit up with excitement.
"It's a nice car to drive," Cruz said, preparing to make a turn in the vehicle.
Cruz had been researching the WRX for the past three months but made the decision to visit the dealership this Sunday due to the looming tariff increase.
"The plan was exactly to get it in two months. Because of the tariffs, I had to decide to get it today. That was the main driver for my decision," Cruz said, explaining how the tariffs influenced his buying timeline.
With the 25% increase on vehicles imported from Japan, Cruz realized the price of his dream car would rise by more than $9,000, a cost he couldn't afford.
"It kind of creates a little bit of urgency," said Gino Ventanilla, a finance manager at Premier Subaru of Fremont.
Ventanilla noted that his dealership, like many others at Fremont Auto Mall, saw increased foot traffic and more serious buyers over the weekend.
"They might be shopping for a few months. And those timelines have kind of been sped up a little bit," Ventanilla added.
Dealerships have assured customers that existing inventory would not be affected by the new tariffs, which will go into effect on April 3 for vehicles imported into the U.S. Additionally, parts shipped from foreign countries will face a 25% import tax no later than May 3.
According to auto industry experts, all makes will be impacted by the tariffs. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reported that even companies like Ford and General Motors have cars and parts imported from Mexico and Canada, which could also see price hikes.
"The tariffs going into effect on Wednesday or Thursday, I think, motivated [my wife] a lot more. And she found this car," said Jim Fussell, whose wife purchased a Subaru on Sunday after a year of research.
With new cars now starting at around $30,000, many shoppers are worried that buying a car will soon become even more costly and stressful.
"We're very happy. This will be our second Subaru that we've owned," said Fussell, satisfied with their purchase.
For Cruz, the excitement didn't end with the sale.
"I'm already planning where I'm going to take the car, maybe to the mountains or to the beach," he said, looking forward to the adventures ahead.
Experts suggest the tariff impact may extend beyond new cars. With prices expected to rise on imported vehicles, they predict that used car prices will also climb due to shifts in supply and demand.
The automotive industry is bracing for a shift as tariffs begin to reshape the market, driving urgency for many buyers who are trying to beat the price hike before it's too late.

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13 Dangerous Things Gen X Kids Did Growing Up Their Parents Were Oblivious To
13 Dangerous Things Gen X Kids Did Growing Up Their Parents Were Oblivious To

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time3 days ago

  • Yahoo

13 Dangerous Things Gen X Kids Did Growing Up Their Parents Were Oblivious To

Navigating the precarious tightrope of youth is a universal experience, but for Gen X kids—those sandwiched between Baby Boomers and Millennials—their formative years were a unique cocktail of neon colors, grunge music, and a cavalier attitude towards safety. Fueled by a sense of independence, these latchkey adolescents often indulged in activities that, by today's standards, would raise more than a few eyebrows. With parents blissfully unaware or simply unconcerned, Gen X kids found adventure and a little danger in the everyday. Here's a nostalgic look back at the hazardous antics they engaged in, often under the radar of adult supervision. Ah, the station wagon—a family staple that doubled as a mobile playground. It was the ultimate freedom: the 'way back' seat, facing rearward, devoid of seatbelts, where kids waved to the cars behind them or made faces at unsuspecting drivers. This was before the era of mandatory child safety seats or even basic seatbelt laws. The rough terrain of life's road trip was part of the appeal, as children tumbled and laughed with each swerve. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, seatbelt laws only became widespread in the late '80s, by which time an entire generation had experienced road trips in a wonderfully unsafe manner. Safety, or the lack thereof, was far from the minds of Generation X as they chirped along in their rear-facing thrones. The rumble of the road beneath them was a soundtrack to their youth, a rhythm of innocence mixed with obliviousness. Parents, sitting upfront, either didn't know or didn't care that their children were essentially free-roaming cargo. For many, these journeys were their first taste of autonomy—a chance to bond with siblings away from adult eavesdropping. The 'way back' was a domain where kids ruled, one unsupervised adventure at a time. In a world without electronic distractions, outdoor games were the mainstay of childhood entertainment, and few were as perilously thrilling as lawn darts. These weighted missiles, with their sharp metal tips, were a staple of backyard gatherings. The objective was simple: aim and throw the darts into rings placed on the ground, with little regard for the potential risk of injury. The excitement was palpable as players dodged errant throws, treating each near-miss as a badge of honor. The danger of lawn darts, or 'jarts,' was a feature, not a bug—a testament to the daring spirit of the times. In retrospect, it's astounding how this game managed to slip under parental radars, despite the occasional impalement. For kids, the thrill was in the risk, in the knowing that each toss could lead to minor injury, adding an edge to the mundane. As the '80s came to a close, the Consumer Product Safety Commission finally intervened, banning the sale of lawn darts after years of injuries. Yet, for those who played, the memories of haphazard throws and daring maneuvers remain as sharp as the darts themselves. In the pre-digital age, exploration was a physical pursuit, and for Gen X kids, storm drains and tunnels became the gateways to adventure. These labyrinthine infrastructures, replete with darkness and echoing drops of water, were both thrilling and forbidden. Kids were drawn to these underground passages like moths to a flame, eager to chart unknown territories and uncover the secrets they suspected lay within. Anthropologist Dr. Peter Dodson noted in a 1991 study on childhood exploration that such activities were crucial for fostering independence and problem-solving skills. Yet, the very nature of these explorations was fraught with danger—dangers that parents were blissfully unaware of. The risk of flooding, getting lost, or encountering wild animals only added to the thrill. For many, these subterranean adventures felt like stepping into a real-life fantasy world, where they were the heroes of their own stories. The gritty realism of darkness and dampness only heightened the sense of escapism, creating vivid memories that lasted long after they had clambered back into the daylight. Independence Day and New Year's Eve were the perfect excuses for Gen X kids to indulge in the art of homemade pyrotechnics. With a few basic supplies—matches, gunpowder, and an assortment of metal tubes—young pyrotechnicians crafted their explosive masterpieces. The thrill wasn't just in the colorful bursts of light, but in the process, the trial and error of creating something that could both mesmerize and maim. It was a hands-on chemistry lesson with no adult supervision and no safety goggles in sight. Parents were either oblivious or turned a blind eye to these backyard experiments, trusting in an unfounded belief in their children's infallibility. The inevitable burns and singe marks were tokens of a successful night, worn with pride rather than shame. For these kids, the allure of danger was intertwined with the joy of creation—a DIY ethos that defined a generation. As regulations tightened and safety became paramount in later decades, the tradition of homemade fireworks fizzled out, leaving behind a smoky haze of nostalgia. Before the age of Uber and Lyft, hitchhiking was the norm for getting from place to place without a car. Gen X kids, either too young to drive or lacking other means of transport, frequently relied on the goodwill of strangers to reach their destinations. This reliance on the kindness of others was both a social experiment and a testament to the trusting nature of the times. Despite the inherent risks, a study by Dr. Stephen Dubner in the '70s suggested that the chance of danger was statistically low, though the perception would shift dramatically in later years. Parents, sometimes unknowingly, allowed their children this freedom, assuming the roads were as safe as they had been in their own youth. The world felt smaller, friendlier, as hitchhiking became a rite of passage, an opportunity for spontaneous adventure. Each ride was a mini-journey, filled with stories and encounters that would shape their understanding of the world. While today's parents might balk at the idea, for Gen X, hitchhiking was a ticket to freedom and an introduction to the vastness of life beyond their immediate surroundings. The wind in their hair and the sun on their faces, Gen X kids took to the streets on their bikes, blissfully helmet-free. It was a time when bike helmets were neither fashionable nor considered necessary, and the result was a generation of fearless young cyclists. The street was their playground, and each ride was an adventure—a daring dance with danger. With no protective gear to encumber them, they raced through neighborhoods, popped wheelies, and took tumbles with nothing but scraped elbows to show for it. Parents, back then, weren't overly concerned about head injuries; if anything, they seemed to view these excursions as character-building exercises. The occasional fall was just part of growing up, a chance to learn resilience and self-reliance. Each scar and bruise was a memory, a reminder of a particularly daring ride, and a story to recount at school. In a world that felt invincible, the absence of helmets was simply another aspect of the carefree lifestyle that defined their youth. For Gen X kids, the lure of the abandoned building was irresistible—a chance to step into another world, to explore what had been left behind. Armed with flashlights and fueled by adrenaline, they ventured into these forgotten spaces, seeking the thrill of discovery. The risk of collapsing floors, lurking strangers, or legal repercussions only added to the excitement of the exploration. Sociologist Dr. Lee M. Ellis noted in a 1988 paper that such activities were pivotal for adolescent identity formation, serving as a crucial outlet for creative and rebellious energies. Parents, often unaware of these clandestine expeditions, assumed their children were simply playing in the neighborhood. The reality was that these urban adventures offered a taste of the unknown, a chance to embrace fear and conquer it. Each exploration was a narrative in itself, filled with suspense, teamwork, and sometimes, a dash of the supernatural. The echoes of their footsteps through empty halls are now memories—reminders of a time when the world felt like a vast, open stage for youthful imagination. Treehouses were the ultimate sanctuaries, places where Gen X kids could escape the prying eyes of adults and craft their own worlds. Constructed from whatever materials they could scrounge, these treetop fortresses were feats of youthful engineering. Without blueprints or adult oversight, the process was one of trial and error, a learning experience in independence and ingenuity. Hammering nails into precarious positions, they created their own versions of paradise high among the leaves. Parents seemed to trust in their children's ability to create safe havens, oblivious to the potential dangers of shoddy construction or unexpected falls. The occasional splinter or bruised thumb was seen as part of the process, part of the adventure. In these leafy hideaways, the real world faded away, replaced by a realm of imagination and possibility. Each treehouse was a testament to the boundless creativity and audacity of youth—a sanctuary that, despite its precariousness, felt like the safest place on earth. In the glow of a backyard bonfire, Gen X kids learned the art of controlled chaos, mastering the dance of flames. 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For many Gen X kids, these experiences instilled a lifelong love of water, a sense of belonging to something greater than themselves. The occasional leech or waterborne illness was a small price to pay for the memories created in these natural playgrounds. In a time before Whole Foods and organic labels, Gen X kids foraged for their own snacks, guided by little more than curiosity and the occasional field guide. The world was a pantry, offering up berries, mushrooms, and herbs for those bold enough to sample them. This foraging was both a culinary adventure and a test of knowledge—one wrong bite could lead to a stomach ache or worse. Parents, either unaware or trusting in their children's instincts, often let these excursions unfold without intervention. For these young botanists, the thrill was in the discovery, in the connection between themselves and the natural world. Each successful identification was a triumph, a small victory in the quest for knowledge and self-sufficiency. Though cautionary tales of poisonous plants and fungi abounded, the allure of the unknown was too strong to resist. These early forays into the world of wild edibles fostered a sense of independence and confidence, skills that would serve them well in later life.

Subaru BRAT Revival May Disappoint Fans Of The Original
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time3 days ago

  • Miami Herald

Subaru BRAT Revival May Disappoint Fans Of The Original

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Effort to strip Fed of interest paying power seen likely to bring upheaval to markets
Effort to strip Fed of interest paying power seen likely to bring upheaval to markets

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Effort to strip Fed of interest paying power seen likely to bring upheaval to markets

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