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Men in Cars

Oh, the boys and their toys. When will they learn that their rides are not their lives. Or, if they need to have machines to reflect who they are, maybe they should get it right.

Why cruise a Ram if you’re really a Vespa?

More specifically, what’s with men who drive ladymobiles?

I kinda get the whole penis extension/check-out-my-Porsche thing. No, I don’t agree with it, but I can kinda see how they think they’re flexing their, ahem, muscle. And the dudes with their souped up trucks and pimped out wheels? Fine, leave ’em to it and let them think they’re snowing us with their prowess on – ooooh, and off – the road. Sure we’re wise to ’em, but let them be. It all makes sense in a strange-but-true sorta way.

But what is it with the (straight?) guys who drive the little red sportsters? Or, better still, the ones in the turquoise reissued t-birds? Sooooo not their demo.

And I think they know it.

Here’s what happened today. I was helping my sister-in-law get our two kids into their carseats. Her car. Our kids. 4 and 3 years old. And this guy in a – you guessed it – turquoise (or would you call it aqua?) convertible Thunderbird, pulls up and starts honking us. Then, ever-so-rudely, he tells us to quit talking and start driving.

I beg your pardon???

Sadly, I was forced, after more rudeness on his part, to punctuate my sentence with a F&ck You. And those who know me, know I never do that. But this guy didn’t know that. Suddenly, bravado gone, he started muttering about us putting our makeup on….Not sure what he was on about. But, feeling emboldened, I asked, “do you think I care what you think?!” Oh yeah! Who’s in the driver’s seat now, buddy? Not him. He took one look at our butcher-than-his car and drove away.

To the empty spot two cars down.

And when he got out of his car, my sister-in-law noted that he was pushing 50 and scraping by the 5 and a half foot mark. Which got us to thinking…Was he rude and impatient and revolting because of an obvious Napoleonic complex? Or was he as he was because, simply put, he chose the wrong car?

Maybe he thought a convertible would make him feel younger. Or taller. Erm, nicest day in weeks today and the roof was firmly fixed. So, no, it wasn’t the soft top. Maybe he thought the colour would make him hip and happening. Foiled again, friend. Girl, girl and more girl. And, finally, perhaps he figured the new Thunderbird, echoing the old classic, would take him back to the golden oldie days of yore. But I have a feeling this guy never drove a T-bird back in the day…

You see, according to my sources, while this car looks great, ie. pretty, it drives like a town car. In other words, boys looking for performance and all that need not apply. But if you only want to look great, ie, pretty, then climb aboard. And maybe that’s what got this guy all steamed up. Instead of a display of his manhood, he ended up in a mom-mobile. An older, empty-nester, mom-mobile.

So gents, before you vent and strut and hem and haw for no real reason, take a look in the mirror. And the rearview. You can’t puff out your chest if you’re driving the auto equivalent of pink fluffy slippers. You just can’t. And if that’s WHY you’re so upset, then put on your soft rock, get into the right lane and get over it. Wuss.

1 comments:

Anonymous said…

To play devil’s advocate – let’s just say he borrowed his younger girlfriend’s car, has no issue with his masculinity, but may quite simply be an asshole.
Welcome to the world of telling strangers to fuck off – feels good, doesn’t it?

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