Measurement of a Man: Engines, Mileage, Mufflers and More

I have a few important men in my life that are all very disparate. In order to size them up, I have employed the relationships that each of them has with cars in order to understand them a little better.

My father has now retired, but was a professional geologist. He has ever been really outdoorsy. He’s known for chipping a stone here, gather a fossil over there. He is unquestionably a man’s man, but has never been very loving of any kind of machinery. Gears and engines have a way of producing his inner savage even though he is a real gentleman. I can think of times when I was very young, seeing my dad with his head under the hood of a car and hearing him cussing at the Industrial Age.

My father would regularly switch the tyres on our Volkswagen camper, but I never saw him fawning over aftermarket center caps or grille work. While he would from time to time dab some Rust-o-leum onto rusted points on the van or put water in the radiator, you would never see him take a Q-tip to the dashboard knobs or scrub the headlamps with a toothbrush.

My father-in-law, on the other hand, is a auto man all the way. He knows make, model and year of everything that’s probably ever travelled the Pennsylvania turnpike. Scouring whitewalls or ogling a 1962 Chevy at the Antique Car Club rally is his idea of a well-spent Afternoon.

He graduated speedily from a pacifier 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 expected of young farm boys. His interest in things with gadgets, wheels, and engines seemed to stick even though any affection for animals did not. He made the choice to leave the farm and go to university and he never looked back.

My hubby is also a teacher; just like both of our dads, but that is the only thing they share. He doesn’t like to go camping, carefully cleaning his cars, or collecting rocks. He loves to spend his Saturday marking papers as he sips fancy java drinks at Starbucks.

He has no problem putting gas in his car, but he would likely keep his Chevy center caps as door stops 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 just twice a year and doesn’t mind driving around with the words “wash me” scribbled someplace in the grime on his car.

The young man that my daughter dates is a pepped up version of my father-in-law. When I have the chance, I am going to send them to an car parts store together so they can quickly bond. My daughter gave her boyfriend a performance exhaust kit for his birthday and he is thrilled that the exhaust rumbles deeply. He says it lets everyone know he’s arrived. My daughter smiles saying, “I can hear him coming from more than a mile away.” It’s obvious that she’s in the throes of young love!

Yes, men and their relationships with cars are complicated. Sometimes these relationships reflect an image of a man’s maleness, while others treat vehicles as a foe – a necessary nuisance to conquer or at least endure.

Some men 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 a total beater or has the most mileage. Car stories are exchanged over beers, like war stories used to be shared at the campfire.

This is the reason the auto industry can sell 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 vehicle in the drive is fuel for cursing or cooing, I’m prone to believe there’s some kind of mechanised mojo in there – something reminiscent to “If you build it, he will come.”