Driving my son to school this morning, usually an unnaturally quiet 6:30 a.m. trip except for my coffee-gulping, he asked, "What exactly is the Michelin Man?"

"I think he's supposed to be composed of piled-up tires," I responded, pleased my teenager and I still share some interests.

"Then how come he's white?"

"Somebody probably decided white would show off his tread better, but he does look more like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man in Ghostbusters."

I am fascinated by the marshmallow morphing of the Michelin Man with the Pillsbury Doughboy into a faked cinematic version. The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man is such a perfect parody, it almost tricks my memory into believing it really existed as a corporate mascot.

While marketing strategies remain a mystery to me (operating in the public subconscious is one of their goals), I find long-time corporate symbols comforting. Occasionally, these images need tinkering.

For obvious reasons, Aunt Jemima, Uncle Ben, and Betty Crocker required modern revamping. Personally, I view them as second-rate icons, anyway, not stylized enough for my taste in the first place. A good corporate icon should border the surreal.

Poppin' Fresh has less giggly, stomach-poking profile these days. Has he succumbed to the anti-carbohydrate faction in the war against obesity? Whatever became of his female partner, Poppy Fresh? Was their relationship questioned? Also, I staunchly insist that Mr. Clean was originally a mystic cleaning genie, despite Wikipedia's version of advertising history.

My mother enjoys recounting my childhood TV viewing habits. My brother and I sat in cardboard boxes, noisily flying to the moon or winning the Indy 500 during regular programming. When the commercials came on, we stopped mid-vroom, eyes widened and mouths hanging open.

Several years later, my teenaged friends cringed when I squealed "Mr. Peanut!" as if he was a long-lost friend, hugging a peanutty version of Fred Astaire by a Planters display. If I wasn't as broke as the poor guy reduced to minimum wage masquerading, I'd have slipped Mr. Peanut a twenty.

I can't think of a really good corporate icon that has popped out in recent years. Maybe the disastrous cartoon Joe Camel campaign in the late '80s scorched any further attempts. Perhaps I don't watch TV as much anymore or spend the commercial time in the bathroom.

This morning my son remarked that he heard the Jolly Green Giant was originally a threatening, stooped figure. I didn't remember this detail, but perhaps that is why I never liked peas.

I do have Michelin tires and eat Planters Peanuts.