If You'd Be Good To Me, Ohh I'll Be Good To You
To most people, a car is just a damned thing that breaks down and occasionally gets you places. It consumes money, tries patience, and occasionally induces rage. It takes up space, gets dirty and dented, and occasionally saves you time over walking.
That didn't used to be the case, though. People once took PRIDE in their automobiles. They'd keep the same car for decades - sure, sometimes because they couldn't afford to upgrade - because they liked the way they drove. The way they felt sitting in the driver's seat. They'd grown accustomed to all of their car's quirks, mastered the steering and parallel parking, and tricked them inside and out to have them looking their best. Rather than plow through the five-minute car wash, they chose to wash them by hand, because it brought them immense joy to see their baby glimmering. You had to know how to work on a car's engine, not just to save on money, but because you wanted an intimate knowledge of everything your car embodied.
People didn't just own cars because of convenience, or practicality, or gas mileage. Sure, maybe once you got married and started spewing children you'd get a second auto to take the kids to school or something. But that first car, that special one, was always for pleasure.
Now what do you see? Rows and rows of sedans and SUVs in every supermarket parking lot. Each car looking exactly like the other: four doors, silver/gray, with the same damned boring shape. Average trunk space, average engine space, average amount of leg room. Rice Rockets and Gas Guzzlers. Even though most people who drive sedans don't carpool - thereby not taking advantage of the four-door feature - and most people don't go off-roading - thereby not taking advantage of their SUV's SUV-ness.
And if you ask someone why they drive the car they drive, what do they say inevitably? Good on gas mileage; got a good deal on the lease; it's got all the safety features; computer chip convenience. But you know, really, unless they're wealthy or willing to put up a significant amount of money down on their car, they're not buying the thing because it's their ideal vehicle. If you ask someone who's into cars what their dream car is, inevitably you'll get fanciful answers like Porsche, BMW, Corvette, Ferrari, shit like that. Really COOL cars that go fast, get shit gas mileage, yet manage to impress the panties off of shallow leggy blondes with fake tits.
Well, my car won't be bagging me any fake titted blondes any time soon, but at least I have a valid reason for driving her. And it's not for this pussy bullshit like gas mileage, safety, or durability. It's about being proud of the car that I drive. It's about driving something that isn't the same old fucking thing you see on every fucking highway you drive on. It's about owning a classic, rebuilding it from scratch, pounding out all the dents and slapping a new paint job on that baby. Eventually, it'll lead me to taking a class on fixing cars (a class I wanted to take in high school if they didn't cut the damned program a year before I enrolled) and really getting involved in my car's upkeep.
So one day I can look at it, take it for a spin, and feel the tremendous joy that driving is capable of giving. With a clear road, an open window, and a gas pedal to the floor.
That didn't used to be the case, though. People once took PRIDE in their automobiles. They'd keep the same car for decades - sure, sometimes because they couldn't afford to upgrade - because they liked the way they drove. The way they felt sitting in the driver's seat. They'd grown accustomed to all of their car's quirks, mastered the steering and parallel parking, and tricked them inside and out to have them looking their best. Rather than plow through the five-minute car wash, they chose to wash them by hand, because it brought them immense joy to see their baby glimmering. You had to know how to work on a car's engine, not just to save on money, but because you wanted an intimate knowledge of everything your car embodied.
People didn't just own cars because of convenience, or practicality, or gas mileage. Sure, maybe once you got married and started spewing children you'd get a second auto to take the kids to school or something. But that first car, that special one, was always for pleasure.
Now what do you see? Rows and rows of sedans and SUVs in every supermarket parking lot. Each car looking exactly like the other: four doors, silver/gray, with the same damned boring shape. Average trunk space, average engine space, average amount of leg room. Rice Rockets and Gas Guzzlers. Even though most people who drive sedans don't carpool - thereby not taking advantage of the four-door feature - and most people don't go off-roading - thereby not taking advantage of their SUV's SUV-ness.
And if you ask someone why they drive the car they drive, what do they say inevitably? Good on gas mileage; got a good deal on the lease; it's got all the safety features; computer chip convenience. But you know, really, unless they're wealthy or willing to put up a significant amount of money down on their car, they're not buying the thing because it's their ideal vehicle. If you ask someone who's into cars what their dream car is, inevitably you'll get fanciful answers like Porsche, BMW, Corvette, Ferrari, shit like that. Really COOL cars that go fast, get shit gas mileage, yet manage to impress the panties off of shallow leggy blondes with fake tits.
Well, my car won't be bagging me any fake titted blondes any time soon, but at least I have a valid reason for driving her. And it's not for this pussy bullshit like gas mileage, safety, or durability. It's about being proud of the car that I drive. It's about driving something that isn't the same old fucking thing you see on every fucking highway you drive on. It's about owning a classic, rebuilding it from scratch, pounding out all the dents and slapping a new paint job on that baby. Eventually, it'll lead me to taking a class on fixing cars (a class I wanted to take in high school if they didn't cut the damned program a year before I enrolled) and really getting involved in my car's upkeep.
So one day I can look at it, take it for a spin, and feel the tremendous joy that driving is capable of giving. With a clear road, an open window, and a gas pedal to the floor.