Measurement of a Man: Engines, Ponies, Mufflers and More
The men in my life are diverse, so when attempting to size them up I employ their relationships with automobiles as a path to help me understand them best.
My own father has ever been really outdoorsy, which suited him perfectly. He worked as a biologist, but is retired nowadays. Pick up a fossil here; chipping a rock there, that’s my daddy. He never managed to acquire any fondness for machinery. He was raised by his parents to act like a gentleman, but engines and gears seemed to bring out the worst in him. I have early memories of him cursing the Industrial Age as he was bent over an engine.
My father would invariably change the tires on our Volkswagen van when they needed it, but you would never see him admire aftermarket center caps or custom chrome grille work on a vehicle. You might see him checking the H2O level in the radiator or putting some Rustoleum on spots that had rusted on the van, but you would never see him using a toothbrush to scrub headlights or using Q-tips to clean the knobs on the dashboard. These things just didn’t take place in our garage.
But Then, my father-in-law is unquestionably a car man. He can tell you the make, model and year of every vehicle that’s traveled down the Pennsylvania turnpike. His ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon would be checking out a 1962 Chevrolet at a local Antique Club Car Show or scrubbing his own whitewalls.
Growing up in rustic northern Pennsylvania, he rapidly graduated from pacifier to pliers and pitchfork. Farm boys acquired the ABCs of 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 a professor, just like his father and my father, but that is where their similarities finish. He doesn’t meticulously clean his cars, collect rocks, or go camping. He likes to spend Saturdays enjoy java at a local Starbuck, marking papers, and connecting with friends on Facebook.
He has no trouble putting gas in his car, but he would in all probability use his Chevy center caps as paperweights on his desk, than as a fashionable way to pimp his ride. Not that he has anything against anyone who toils over their center caps. He vacuums his vehicle twice a year, but is satisfied to drive 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 little more juiced. He got a high performance exhaust kit as a gift last month and has been excited ever since beyond his exhaust growls 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 complex. It seems that these 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 name their automobiles, and others blaspheme them. Some treat their vehicles with TLC, while others cop bragging rights because their car or truck is beaten up or has the most mileage. Car tales are exchanged over beers, like war tales used to be shared around a campfire.
This is the reason the auto industry sells billions of dollars worth of window tint, aftermarket center caps, dashboard accessories, chrome, seat covers, rims, car alarms, backup sensors, hoods, exhausts, and decals.
Whether the wheels in the drive are fodder for cussing or cooing, I believe there’s some inescapable mechanical mojo going on – Kind of like to “If you build it, he will come.”