I have a few important men in my life that are all very distinct. In an effort to size them up, I have utilized the relationships that each of them has with cars in order to understand them a little better.
My father is outdoorsy - a geologist by profession, although now retired. Nick a rock here. Collect a fossil there. He is a man’s man, but has never shown any affection for machinery. Although brought up to be a gentleman, engines and gears had a way of bringing out the inner beast. Some of my earliest memories involve my dad hunched over some motor, cursing out the Industrial Age.
Dad would switch tires on our VW camper vans when needed, but would never have been one to fawn over chrome grill work or aftermarket center caps. He might pour some water in the radiator or dab Rust-oleum on rusted spots on our van, but scrubbing headlamps with toothbrushes or running Q-Tips around dashboard knobs were not affairs that occurred in our garage.
But Then, my father-in-law is definitely a car man. He can tell you the make, model and year of every vehicle that’s travelled down the Pennsylvania turnpike. His ideal way to pass a Saturday afternoon would be checking out a 1962 Chevy at a local Antique Club Car Show or scrubbing his own whitewalls.
He grew up in rural northern Pennsylvania and graduated rapidly from a teething ring to a pitchfork and wrench. Where he grew up, farm boys were expected to learn all they could about animal husbandry and mechanics. He has maintained his passion for gadgets, wheels, and engines, but has no interest in animals. He left the farm, never looking back, and went to college.
My husband is also a professor; just like both of our fathers, but that is the only resemblance they share. He doesn’t like to go camping, carefully cleaning his cars, or collecting rocks. He loves to spend his Saturday grading papers as he sips fancy coffee drinks at Starbucks.
He keeps his car full of gas, but would in all probability use his Ford center caps as paperweights on his desk, than as a trendy way to floss his ride. Not that he has anything against anyone who obsesses over their center caps. He vacuums his vehicle twice a year, but is content to ride about town with “Wash me!” scrawled above his rusted bumper for a year at a time.
Our daughter’s boyfriend is exactly like my father in law, but a bit more juiced. He got a high performance exhaust kit as a gift last month and has been thrilled ever since beyond his tailpipe growls deeply. You can tell that our daughter is in the throes of love when you hear her talk about how you can hear him approaching from a mile away.
Yes, men and their relationships with automobiles are complicated. Sometimes these relationships reflect an expression of a man’s maleness, while others treat vehicles as a foe - a necessary nuisance to conquer or at least endure.
Some men blaspheme their automobiles and some name them. Some men give their cars plenty of TLC while some campaign for bragging rights because their vehicle has the highest mileage or is the most beat up. Men exchange car stories over beers, just like war stories are shared at the campfire.
This is the reason the auto industry can sell billions of dollars worth of window tinting, aftermarket center caps, dashboard accessories, chrome, seat covers, rims, car alarms, backup sensors, hoods, exhausts, and decals.
Whether the wheels in the driveway are fodder for cursing or cooing, I think there’s some inevitable mechanistic mojo going on - Kind of like to “If you build it, he will come.”