Men Love Their Cars!

If you ask a man about a car, you’re sure to get a complete rundown on the vehicle whether you want it or not. I’m not saying that this is a bad thing…I’m just saying that men and cars are like peanut butter and jelly…they just go together.  I hadn’t really noticed this fact until after I was married, which is strange since I have four brothers. But the truth is, my husband owned a 67 Chevy Nova and it was his pride and joy. I did not understand the love he had for this car, for when I met him he was station on a ship in Hawaii and his car was still in California. Eventually we made it back together to California where I witnessed my then boyfriend’s obsession with his car. He babied it and kept it cleaner than most people keep their houses. He loved me enough to agree to let me drive it…but I think he was secretly thrilled when my feet did not touch the pedals. It had a column shift and I just didn’t understand how special that and the whole car  was to a guy in 1980. Sadly to say, for my husband, he sold the car in 1983 when we got married so that we could buy furniture for our tiny apartment in Sitka, Alaska.

Flash forward four years…we are still in Alaska and I decide to show my husband how much I love him. Doing something totally out of character for me, I went out and bought a 1977 white Corvette for my husband. When he arrived home from work, he was stunned that I bought him his dream car…well, the make not the year…but it was good enough. He was like a kid in a candy store. He spent hours cleaning and waxing that vette until you could see yourself in its paint. Actually it was a crazy car to buy in a town with fourteen miles of road…and even crazier with  ninety-five percent rain yearly. But we would crank up the heat and take the T-tops off and we were in heaven. Let me rephrase that…my husband was in heaven.  Imagine his joy when we moved to Hawaii and took the car with us. It was the perfect car for Hawaii and he loved every minute of driving it there.  Sadly to say again…he gave it up when our first born entered the world. There just wasn’t any place for a baby to sit and I did not want our baby to be a hood ornament.

My husband religated himself to driving a small Toyota pick up truck while the family car, a Pontiac Grand Am, served as his “sports car. He didn’t care that it wasn’t a classic or a real sports car, he treated it as if there was no car better on the road. Even his truck was handled with care. Imagine his horror when I let a golf club slip from my hands and it went crashing into one of the windows. I thought it was hilarious…he did not.

About this time my son was a toddler being introduced to Match Box cars and Hot Wheels. My son and husband would play for hours with those little cars, discussing what made each special and how to recognize them on the roads. I thought my husband was silly and wondered if my son would ever remember all that he was being taught.

Flash forward to my son’s middle school years…as a family we are traveling down to Florida from Virginia and my husband points out a Prowler up ahead. My son gets excited and begins giving my husband the stats on the car. How does he know this? I have no clue. I make the mistake of saying it is ugly and both men glare at me for what seemed like a year! As we made the journey down south I found out that my husband and son knew everything about every car we passed. Weird, I know. Do we own car magazines? No! Do we watch car shows? Well, not then. So that’s when I figured that men and cars must just go together. There must be a gene that is embedded in the male anatomy that, like a tiny micro chip, draws a man to a car.

I’m sitting in a parking lot the other day and I notice a young man pull up in a corvette and I smile. I remember my husband and his car, and figure this man is probably loving life right now…especially since it is rare to see a young person driving one of these over-priced cars today. I wonder if he loves his car as much as my husband loved his, and as much as my son loves his current car, when I witness the man exit the car. This is not strange, you’re right. But as he shut the door he kissed his hand and placed it on his car and said good bye. He caught my eye and smiled…and I knew…he loved his car like peanutbutter loves jelly….like men love their cars….they always have and always will.