Wheeled Backpacks

There are many reasons to be proud of our nation's obsession with progress and efficiency. Generation after generation improves upon the past, becoming ever more innovative and progressive. By striving to do more with less, more than before and more than the next guy, we have enriched the world with wonderful time- and labor-saving devices.

The processing power of our computers doubles every 18 months. Technology can enable a single farmer to cultivate hundreds of acres of land and feed thousands of people. Unmanned aircraft are making combat deaths of human pilots increasingly rare.

Our quest to get things done with greater efficiency and less effort has also delivered more mundane benefits. "Go-gurt" and ready-to-microwave soup canisters are now available for those too busy to bother with antiquated "regular" products, or simply too proud to resort to the use of such quaint devices as "spoons." At this point, however, it may be that the pendulum has swung too far in this direction, and that this peculiar American ingenuity stands dangerously close to ushering in an era of sloth.

The latest incarnation of this trend addresses those who can't even seem to carry the most basic of burdens unaided — those who feel that using a backpack the traditional way is burdensome and inefficient. Sure, it's got straps. It distributes weight evenly on your shoulders (if you don't jauntily carry it over only one shoulder). But no; it's too heavy. The solution: Put it on wheels!

Though it has been said that the 21st century technical marvel Segway could have saved a few bucks and design flaws by adding something as simple as a third wheel, the human bipedal design is hardly in need of improvement through an extra stabilizing appendage.

Not only is the wheeled backpack the height of shameful laziness — it is also remarkably inconsiderate, essentially doubling the personal space occupied by its owner in crowded areas. Walking to the lecture hall or navigating a rush hour metro stop might be easier for him with his little travois dragging behind him, but those behind walking extra slow to keep from tripping over his bundle are swearing under their breath.

We have become a society of people who can no longer be bothered to do the basic things once accepted without question. We're slack — even simulating golf on a computer rather than bother with the real thing, or worse, simulating the nothing of daily life via the Sims.

Heavy luggage, sure — put some wheels on that. Little kids with heavy textbooks, we'll give you a pass, too. But now it's briefcases, laptops, overnight bags ... is it any wonder we're the fattest nation in the history of human civilization? What's next, fannypacks on wheels? Though that might actually be an social benefit, serving to draw the attention of the gene pool police to someone using a fanny pack in the 21st century.

The wheeled backpack is a matter of no small concern — even a deep and resonant symbol for the downfall of society. Consider the ancient riddle of the sphinx: What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon and three legs in the evening?

According to legend, the original answer was provided by Oedipus, in a different part of his story than when he killed his father and married his mother: Man, who as a baby crawls on all fours, as an adult walks unaided on two legs, and as an old man struggles along with the help of a cane.

Thus we see, in the wheeled third leg of this new breed of slacker, the pending twilight of humanity.

— Matt Salo (msalo at nga dot org)

— graphic by Benjamin Chandler (blchandler at sbcglobal dot net)