Measurement of a Man: Motors, Mileage, Mufflers and More
I have several important men in my life that are all very different. In order to size them up, I have used the relationships that each of them has with autos in order to understand them a little better.
My father has now retired, but was a professional geologist. He has ever been very outdoorsy. He’s known for chipping a stone here, collect a fossil over there. He is definitely a man’s man, but has never been very loving of any kind of machinery. Gears and motors have a way of revealing his inner animal even though he is a real gentleman. I can remember times when I was very young, seeing my dad with his head under the hood of a car and listening to him swearing at the Industrial Age.
Dad would change tires on our Volkswagen camper vans when required, but would never have been one to fawn over chrome grille work or aftermarket center caps. He might pour some water in the radiator or dab Rust-oleum on oxidized patches on our van, but scrubbing up headlamps with toothbrushes or running Q-Tips around dashboard knobs were not things that occurred in our garage.
My father-in-law, on the other hand, is a auto man all the way. He knows make, model and year of everything that’s probably ever travelled the Pennsylvania turnpike. Scouring whitewalls or squaring a 1962 Chevy at the Antique Car Club rally is his thought of a well-spent Afternoon.
Growing up in rustic northern Pennsylvania, he quickly graduated from teething ring to wrench and pitchfork. Farm boys acquired the ABCs of automobile mechanics along with animal farming at an early age. The affinity with engines and wheels and all the associated gadgets stuck, although fondness for animals did not. He left the farm to go to college and never looked back.
My husband is also a teacher; just like both of our fathers, but that is the only resemblance they share. He doesn’t like to go camping, carefully washing his cars, or collecting rocks. He loves to pass his Saturday marking papers as he sips fancy java beverages at Starbucks.
He has no trouble putting petrol in his car, but he would probably use his Chevy center caps as paperweights in his office before he would pimp his ride with them. No disrespect if you’re a center cap mind you. He makes the time to vacuum his car just twice a year and doesn’t mind riding around with the words “wash me” scribbled somewhere in the grime on his car.
Our daughter’s boyfriend is exactly like my father in law, but a little more juiced. He got a high performance muffler kit as a gift last month and has been thrilled ever since beyond his tailpipe rumbles deeply. You can tell that our daughter is in the throes of love when you listen to her talk about how you can hear him coming from a mile away.
It’s true that men and the relationships they have with their cars are complicated. It seems that their relationships can be an expression of some men’s masculinity, while other men treat their cars as an opponent that’s a nuisance that must be conquered or suffered.
Many men blaspheme their automobiles and others name them. Some men give their cars plenty of TLC while some fight for bragging rights because their car has the highest mileage or is the most beat up. Men swap car stories over beers, just like war stories are shared around a campfire.
This is the reason the auto industry can sell billions of dollars worth of window tinting, aftermarket center caps, dashboard accoutrements, chrome, seat covers, wheels, car alarms, backup sensors, hoods, tailpipes, and decals.
Whether the ride in the driveway is the reason for cooing or cussing, there has to be some form of mechanistic mojo occurring – something like, “if you build it, he will come.”
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