Measure of a Man: Engines, Ponies, Pipes and More
November 27, 2009
The men in my life are diverse, so when trying to size them up I use their relationships with automobiles as a path to help me understand them better.
My father is outdoorsy - a geologist by profession, although now retired. Chip a rock here. Gather a fossil there. He is a man’s man, but has never shown any fondness 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 bent over some motor, cursing out the Industrial Age.
My father would invariably change the tires on our VW van when they required it, but you would never see him drool over aftermarket center caps or custom chrome grille work on a car. You might see him checking the water level in the radiator or putting some Rustoleum on patches that had oxidized on the van, but you would never see him using a toothbrush to scrub headlamps or using Q-tips to clean the knobs on the dashboard. These things just didn’t take place in our garage.
Then Again, my father-in-law is a car man through & through. I wouldn’t be stunned 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 scrubbing up the whitewalls on his car.
He grew up in rural northern Pennsylvania and graduated rapidly from a pacifier to a pitchfork and wrench. Where he grew up, farm boys were required to learn all they could about animal farming 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 hubby is a professor, just like his father and my father, but that is where their similarities end. He doesn’t meticulously clean his cars, collect rocks, or go camping. He likes to spend Saturdays enjoy coffee at a local Starbuck, marking papers, and catching up with friends on Facebook.
He puts petrol in the car, but would be more inclined to keep his Chevy center caps as paperweights on his desk, than as a fashionable 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 satisfied to motor about town with “Wash me!” scribbled 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 excited ever since beyond his tailpipe growls deeply. You can see 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 their relationships reflect an image of a man’s maleness, while others treat cars as a foe - a needed nuisance to conquer or at least endure.
Some gentlemen give their cars names and others blaspheme them. Some give their cars a deal of TLC and others claim bragging rights because their car or truck is beat up or has the most mileage. Car stories are sold over beers, like war stories used to be shared around a campfire.
This is the reason the auto industry sells billions of dollars worth of window tinting, aftermarket center caps, dash accessories, chrome, seat covers, wheels, car alarms, backup sensors, hoods, tailpipes, and decals.
Whether the wheels in the drive are fodder for cussing or cooing, I think there’s some inescapable mechanistic mojo going on - Kind of like to “If you build it, he will come.”