Measurement of a Man: Engines, Ponies, Mufflers and More
The men in my life are disparate, so when attempting to size them up I use their relationships with automobiles as a way to help me understand them fuller.
My own father has ever been really outdoorsy, which fit him perfectly. He worked as a biologist, but is retired now. Picking up a fossil here; chipping a rock there, that’s my dad. He never managed to grow any fondness for machinery. He was raised by his parents to act like a gentleman, but engines and gears seemed to dredge up the worst in him. I have early memories of him cursing the Industrial Age as he was bent over an engine.
My father would regularly change the tyres on our VW camper, but I never saw him fawning over aftermarket center caps or grille work. While he would now and again dab some Rust-o-leum onto oxidized spots on the van or put H2O in the radiator, you would never see him take a Q-tip to the dashboard knobs or scrub the headlights with a toothbrush.
Then Again, my father-in-law is a complete car man through and through. I wouldn’t be stunned if he knew every make, model, and year of every automobile that ever travelled the Pennsylvania turnpike. He is happy to spend a Saturday afternoon checking out cars at an Antique Car Club Show or scrubbing up the whitewalls on his car.
He graduated speedily from a teething ring to a pitchfork and pliers while growing up in a rural area of northern Pennsylvania. Learning all about animal farming and the ABCs of mechanics was required of young farm boys. His interest in things with gadgets, wheels, and motors seemed to stick even though any fondness for animals did not. He made the decision to leave the farm and go to university and he never looked back.
My husband is also a professor; just like both of our dads, but that is the only thing they share. He doesn’t like camping out, carefully washing his cars, or collecting rocks. He loves to pass his Saturday grading papers as he sips fancy coffee drinks at Starbucks.
He has no problem putting gasoline in his car, but he would in all likelihood keep his Chevy center caps as paperweights in his office rather than pimp his ride with them. No disrespect if you’re a center cap mind you. He takes the time to vacuum his car every other season and doesn’t mind riding around with the words “wash me” scribbled someplace in the grime on his car.
My daughter’s beau is a juiced up variation of my father-in-law. (I think they would bond quickly if sent together on an errand to a car parts store.) The Boyfriend got a performance exhaust kit for Christmas and is pleased now that his car’s exhaust rumbles deeply, letting everyone know he has arrived. “I can hear him coming a mile away,” my daughter smiles, evidently in the throes of young love.
There’s not question that the relationships that men have with their cars can be complex. On occasion, the car can be a manifestation of a man’s maleness, while other men act as if their vehicles were an enemy that are a nuisance to be subdued or at the very least, endured.
Some name their automobiles, and others blaspheme them. Some handle their vehicles with TLC, while others cop bragging rights because their car or truck is beaten up or has the most mileage. Car stories are exchanged over beers, like war accounts used to be told around a campfire.
This is the reason the auto industry can sell billions of dollars worth of window tint, aftermarket center caps, dashboard accoutrements, chrome, seat covers, wheels, car alarms, backup sensors, hoods, tailpipes, and decals.
Whether the wheels in the driveway are fodder for cursing or cooing, I think there’s some inescapable mechanical mojo going on – something akin to “If you build it, he will come.”
This entry was posted on Sunday, November 29th, 2009 at 5:22 am and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.