Measurement of a Man: Motors, Horse Power, Pipes and More
The men in my life are disparate, so when trying to size them up I employ their relationships with cars as a path to help me understand them best.
My father has now retired, but was a professional geologist. He has always been really outdoorsy. He’s best-known for chipping a rock here, gather a fossil over there. He is definitely a man’s man, but has never been very attached of any kind of machinery. Gears and motors have a way of bringing out his inner savage 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 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 patches on our van, but scrubbing headlamps with toothbrushes or guiding Q-Tips around dashboard knobs were not things that occurred in our garage.
Then Again, my father-in-law is a car man through and through. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew every make, model, and year of every automobile that ever graced the Pennsylvania turnpike. He is happy to spend a Saturday afternoon admiring cars at an Antique Car Club Show or scouring 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 Pennsylvania. Learning all about animal farming and the ABCs of mechanics was required of young farm boys. His interest in things with gizmos, wheels, and engines seemed to stick even though any affection for animals did not. He made the decision to leave the farm and go to university and he never looked back.
My hubby is a teacher like his dad and his father-in-law, but that is where the resemblance ends. He does not camp, collect rocks or meticulously wash his vehicles. His idea of a good afternoon is sipping java at Starbucks, grading tests and tripping along the bunny trails that are Facebook.
He puts gasoline in the car, but would be more likely to keep his Chevy center caps for paper weights instead of using them to floss his ride. No offense to hard working wheel center caps. He makes it a point to vacuum-clean his car once in a while and doesn’t mind driving around with “Wash me!” on the back window for a year or more.
Our daughter’s boyfriend is just like my father in law, but a bit more juiced. He got a high performance muffler 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 hear her talk about how you can hear him approaching from a mile away.
There’s not question that the relationships that men have with their cars can be complex. On occasion, the car can be a expression of a man’s maleness, while other men act as if their vehicles were a foe that are a nuisance to be conquered or at the very least, endured.
Some name their automobiles, and others blaspheme them. Some treat their vehicles with TLC, while others declare bragging rights because their car or truck is beaten up or has the most mileage. Car tales are exchanged over beers, like war stories used to be told around a campfire.
Why else is the auto industry able to sell billions of dollars of chrome, mag wheels, seat covers, backup detectors, window tint, fancy headlamps, dash accessories and aftermarket center caps, tailpipes, hoods, auto alarms 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.”
