Zoolander Wes Really Hates Subaru, But Why?
All readers welcome
If you’ve read ACF long enough, you’re perhaps vaguely familiar with “Zoolander” Wes Siler, the failed male model and current house husband who claims to have been a vigilante and also writes weird fanfiction about himself. I will readily admit to being fascinated with Wes and his attempt to become something he is not. Clive James once wrote that “It takes bad art to teach us how good art gets done,” and similarly we can look at Wes’s incessant thrashing around in search of attention as a lesson in how Ernest Hemingway, Teddy Roosevelt and other self-conscious “men’s men” constructed their personas over time. Wes wants to be a man of action, he wants to be an alpha male, he wants to be a sort of bisexual, trans-obsessed, violence-averse take on Christian Craighead, but he ends up doing stuff like posing for pictures with Tim Walz and bragging about how he is frightened of everything:
As we walked across the field, a rooster lifted off a few feet in front of me, on a trajectory to fly right over my head. I dove into a ditch, a reflex precaution I’ve developed for safety over years of hunting—bird hunters have reputation of playing fast and loose with gun safety. It would have been a home run shot for Walz, who was standing just ten yards away at the time, but he didn’t even shoulder his Beretta. If we’d switched places, I’d have taken that shot.
I’m not even sure what the reader is supposed to take from that paragraph; is it that Siler is an idiot who shoots at other people when he has the chance, or that Siler is an idiot who dives for the ground like a PTSD combat vet at the sight of a bird? Imagine being poor Tim Walz. You’ve already been talked into publicly embarrassing yourself as the Vice Simp for America’s least electable Democrat, and now this idiot with you keeps jumping head-first into the swamp? Who knew that bird hunting, an activity commonly undertaken with considerable success by eight-year-old special needs children, was such a dangerously masculine endeavor?
Over recent years, Wes has managed to carve out a very lightly profitable niche as That One Super Manly Hunter Who Is 100% In Favor Of Gun Control, and more power to him for coming up with that shtick. When I first met him, I don’t think he had ever touched a gun. He is the outdoors equivalent of that kid from Indianapolis who moves to Brooklyn at the age of 27 and two years later is griping about gentrification in Bed-Stuy.
Also, the first time I met him he probably weighed 140 pounds and he was wearing jeans that were oddly, unnecessarily tight. “Twink style,” a friend explained.
Anyway. Wes now has a new niche. It started when he took a picture of note he had left on some poor woman’s Crosstrek, because of course he did, no deed is so private or so dorky that it does not require applause:
Howdy neighbor,
I noticed the 3/4-inch shackles on your front bumper, and they triggered my ‘tism, so I just thought I’d leave you a brief note about safety. Hopefully this saves you damaging your vehicle, or who knows, maybe even your life.
I know that the Wilderness Subaru trim makes those tow eyelets look like recovery points with those gold covers. They are not. Note the “tow,” which is not the same as “recovery.”
Those points are rated for gently pulling your vehicle gently along a level surface without resistance. Think loading the vehicle onto a flatbed tow truck.
If you were to actually get stuck in snow, mud or whatever, that stuff can add up to three times the weight of your vehicle (nearly 15,000 pounds!) in resistance. If you were to try to pull on one or both of those tow points in that scenario, they would explode, and send those shackles flying into your head with that much force. That will kill you or one of your friends.
If you’re serious about preparing for recovery (an admirable and practical pursuit!), then buy a hitch receiver recovery point for the 2-inch receiver you’ve wisely already fitted to your vehicle. Those are strong enough to actually pull from, with the appropriate safety factor.
There’s not a lot of good options for pulling a Subaru forwards. I’d suggest carrying a set of Maxtrax, and sticking to the kind of terrain appropriate for your vehicle: simple, dry forest service roads in summer, or plowed pavement in winter.
Hope this is helpful and not annoying,
Wes (the weird guy in the black house on the corner)
This is classic Wes Siler, and let us count the ways:
Getting in other people’s business because he knows better and he is so authentically outdoorsy;
Mistaking the installation of shackles on a Wilderness, a thing that many Subaru owners do purely on aesthetic grounds, as an attempt to drive the Rubicon Trail, largely because he, Wes, is always misrepresenting his own soft little consumer experiences as Dangerous Manly Stuff;
Claiming to have “tism” and making fun of it, which is not admirable;
Making up weird Batman scenarios in which HOOKS ARE EXPLODING and HEADS ARE BEING SHATTERED and BLOOD SPILLS EVERYWHERE and ONLY HE CAN SAVE THE WORLD FROM THIS;
Lecturing this person about WHERE THEY ARE ALLOWED TO DRIVE THEIR CAR IN THE FUTURE.
The general sense that everyday existence is as dangerous as summiting Everest and can only be undertaken with a massive amount of preparation featuring highly expensive purchases from Outside Magazine advertisers. Which is kind of how Wes lives his life: as a performative Special Advertising Section.
We all know what happened when the owner saw this note; the video above reflects it. Alternately, it was something like this:
The entire Internet has come together to tell Wes how wrong he is, including some unexpected guest stars:
For once, Jonny is right. Wes responded “IT’S THE GROSS WEIGHT”, but why do we have four or five people idly sitting in a Crosstrek that is being recovered from a ditch?
Because Wes is fundamentally a fifteen-year-old girl with BPD, which is to say that he values all sorts of attention no matter how mean or disrespectful, he has now decided to become the Subaru Is Bad Guy in the hopes that he can build a career from it. Which has led him to pen perhaps the most fact-averse article in autowriting history:
You don’t need to read it; I’ll cover the Top Five Stupidities below.
Stupidity #5: Subaru Is An Emissions Scammer
Siler writes, “Subaru pretends its economy cars can go off-road in order to exploit an emissions loophole…. ‘Off-road vehicles’ fall into a legal category subject to less-strict emissions requirements. That means they are cheaper to make, but cause more pollution.” This was thoroughly refuted on his IG post by engineers who work full-time in this part of the auto business, but let’s give Wes credit for living in what amounts to zero history.
Subaru began putting part-time 4WD on its cars fifty-three years ago, at the request of Japanese public utilities. Take a look at the very first 4WD Subaru:
What do you see? A raised ride height, enhanced approach angle, and off-road tires. Do you think any part of this JDM vehicle was inspired by… the US emissions laws of 2026?
In 2004, Subaru modified the Outback sedan to meet the light-truck definition, to much clucking from the NYT. This was done so they could sell it with the 3.0 engine, as the “LL Bean”, and not fall afoul of CAFE. They also sold a 3.0 wagon briefly, but these were both low-volume items. The Legacy-based Outback was already the most popular Subaru in 2004, and remained so for a long time, until it was surpassed by the smaller. Impreza-based Crosstrek. The Outback does not look the way it does because Subaru is cheating on emissions; it looks the way it does because that is what Subaru owners want. They have consistently demonstrated this desire for the past thirty years. Whenever Subaru tries a non-off-road-ish trim for their wagons, it fails miserably.
Also, it’s fairly rich of Wes to simultaneously call the Subarus “economy cars” then gripe about them getting light-truck status. Subarus are generally the least fuel-efficient, and often the most expensive, entries in their market segments. The last genuine “economy car” Subaru was probably the Eighties DL/GL.
Stupidity #4: 4WD vs AWD
Siler writes “The first challenge is traction. Four-wheel drive locks the speeds of the front and rear axles together. This sends all power to the wheel on each axle with the least traction. When things get slippery, 4WD drives two wheels… All-wheel drive sends all its power to the wheel (of all four) with the least traction once that wheel starts to slip. When things get slippery, AWD drives one wheel… All other things being equal, an AWD vehicle has half the traction of that provided by 4WD.”
This statement is almost as broadly incoherent as it is broadly incorrect. Not every “4WD” system locks the front and rear driveshafts in sync. Wes might be thinking of the Land Cruiser his wife bought for him, which probably has lockable center, front, and rear differentials. That must come in handy during those Starbucks runs.
Furthermore, it is common for “AWD” center differentials to be electronically clutched. This can provide a “4WD” effect. It is not as mechanically certain as a fixed-rate center diff, but most of the time it works the same or better.
The reality of the situation is that pretty much every 4WD or AWD vehicle short of a fully loaded Rubicon relies on its computer-controlled braking to distribute torque. This is not an ideal system for rock-crawling but I can personally attest to having driven a Land Rover Freelander all the way through Paragon Adventure Park, including a 35-foot wide river crossing at 40-inch depth, with nothing else.
Stupidity #3: The Flying Eyelet Of Death
Siler writes, “Should a 15,000 pound force be applied to a Subaru’s metal tow eyelet, that item will be stripped out of its threads and fly through the air with that amount of force. Anyone or anything in its path will be destroyed… This is a particular problem for Subarus specifically, because in pretending that its economy cars can go off-road, Subaru applies snazzy colored covers over those tow eyelets, which understandably creates the misleading impression amongst the low-information customers the brand courts that those are hiding actual recovery points. It is common to see Subaru lessees driving around with steel recovery shackles mounted to their tow eyelets.”
How does Wes know the Subaru drivers are leasing? He doesn’t, of course. It’s just another way to be snobbish. You see, Wes’s mommy, I mean wife, bought him a $100,000 Land Cruiser for cash. You, on the other hand, are probably driving a rented Crosstrek to the abortion clinic as we speak. He is better than you are.
I spent a little bit of time today looking for any reports of Subaru tow eyelets killing people. You have to figure it would make at least one of the forums. I found a lot of posts by people saying “these eyelets could shear and kill you,” but never did I actually hear of such a thing happening. This is what I do know. For the past nine years, we have had a MX-5 Cup car in the household, driven by two fairly enthusiastic women and the occasional guest in SCCA competition. At least fifteen times, we have had this car dragged out of gravel or tire walls via the standard Mazda threaded bumper inserts, which show no sign of wear or fatigue.
I put this “flying eyelet” thing down to Wes’s intense desire for regular life to be a sort of extreme wilderness challenge. He wants to feel surrounded by danger on every side. But the collective Internet seems to think that people have been recovering their Subarus, or even recovering other vehicles with their Subarus, via the threaded eyelets. At least one discussion asserts that the eyelets are stronger than the factory hitch… which is hilarious given that Wes strongly advocates using the hitch for a recovery.
Can you get killed by a flying eyelet? Sure. Can you get killed walkin’ your doggie? Also yes. Could Subaru hit him with a libel action for making an unsupported claim about the tensile strength of the threads in their bumper beams? I gotta think so.
Stupidity #2: The World Is Deadly
Siler writes, “Anyone traveling off paved surfaces or through inclement weather needs to be prepared to get stuck. This is doubly true in a Subaru, given the significant limitations built into each and every one. But, Subaru provides its owners no safe way to get its vehicles unstuck, while creating the misleading impression that its vehicles’ tow points are actually recovery points. And that means Subaru puts the lives of both its customers and anyone who stops to help them at risk any time one of those customers attempts to operate their Subaru on any sort of unpaved or winter surface.”
Calm down, missy. No one is going to die because they took their Subaru to the Starbies when it was snowing — at least statistically speaking. I suppose it could happen to someone. But this is the kind of hysteria that causes agoraphobia and/or asking your mommy to give you a land cruiser.
Stupidity #1: None Of This Drama Reflects Real Life
I don’t think of myself as an off-road expert, because I am not. However, I have been operating various SUVs and trucks off-road for more than thirty years now, and have performed dozens of recoveries in a variety of conditions. Probably the most embarrassing of them: getting our Mahindra Roxor unstuck from a mud bog on my own property, using an old Silverado 1500 with bald tires. It took a while. Also, I’ve done Hell’s Revenge at Moab in a stock Jeep, without using 4-Low. Like I said, not an Off-Road Man Of Action.
Wes, by contrast, seems to want to live in an “Into Thin Air” sort of world where the mildest excursion on an unpaved path or snow-covered road immediately ends with some Jack London drama — but this situation only exists in the fevered imaginations of city folk. A five minute search of YouTube will show you dead-stock Subarus making it through all sorts of improbable off-road situations. Heck, there is some fellow who gets around Moab in a Crown Vic. In my rural township it is common to see Chevrolet Cobalts and the like "off-roading” to a remarkable extent. Not every situation calls for a movie-montage assemblage of fancy outdoor gear.
This is, of course, the same Wes Siler who made a big deal about having a custom armor jacket made to ride a motorcycle in his neighborhood. Most people do that in a T-shirt, because they don’t live in constant paralyzing fear of everything around them. You get the sense that Wes is the way he is because he mentally inhabits a giant J. Peterman catalog:
I was preparing to drive to Starbucks. A light snow had fallen. Some of the trip would be uphill; it always was, you know. After six hours spent hand-threading custom titanium screws into the treads of my mommy’s Land Cruiser, I got a text from Mommy who said I was taking too long. Time was of the essence on this dangerous mission; early indications were that the trail could be as long as nine miles, depending on climate change. I packed the minimum: two-man tent, Honda generator, six changes of clothing, a kayak, a backup kayak in case the first one was stolen by grizzly bears, six pairs of Danner boots in different heights, a recurve bow, a compound bow, a Ruger Super Blackhawk in .454 Casull that I hope President Walz eventually confiscates from me, a .460 Weatherby in case a Cape buffalo escapes from the zoo in the next state over, and a double rifle in .600 Goodboy that was once briefly rubbed by Peter Capstick’s gun-bearer’s brother’s best friend’s mom.
Placing my backup satphone into my ALICE gear, I put on my goggles and began the long, lonely trip out to the driveway. “Your Tauntaun will freeze before the first marker,” my mommy said.
“Then… I’ll see you in hell. Did you make my satphone payment, Mommy? It’s making a weird clicky noise.” The bitch said nothing. I walked out to look Old Man Death in the eye. I was coming back with those cake pops, and Hell itself couldn’t stop me.
FINIS