Some say it's a guy thing, cars. Probably is. Maybe not, though. Speaking in generalities, men view cars as an end-all-be-all commodity, whereas women see them simply as a means to an end. One is pragmatic; the other is a healthy, red-blooded Americana lusting of Detroit, Teutonic, or Italian steel. (Btw, it's not that women don't lust, of course they do. It's just that they don't usually lust after things made of steel. Men, good criminy, don't get me started on what men will lust after.)
When we were young, many of my XY chromosomal brethren would drive muscle cars that matched toned, chiseled physique, filled with loud, lousy music and women we surely didn't deserve. In middle-age with some hearing loss -- divorced from those women who were now with men they deserved --some of us attempt to project a sense of fitness and virility with the cars we drive (since chances are, we are no longer either). Sleek Italian lines hide an unhealthy paunch and double-chin (well, the turtleneck sweater also helps with the chin), and German bravura performance under the hood (or bonnet as those lovely Brits say) supplements our wayward testosterone who went out on a beer run in our late-30's but never came back.
Or perhaps we rock a car that shouts a little too loudly (and tries a little too hard) a wry, eco-sophistication with us wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and tree-huggin' green cape waving gallantly behind our rotund backsides as we, in our Captain Endeavor tights, try to -- say it with me -- "Save the planet!" Okay, sure, we occasionally and lamely drive something that bellows a "Why yes, my car does cost more than your home" hubris. And, when old, the typical American male drives the big-bumpered four-door sedan that backs into every car, thing or person in the parking lot with an I-don't-give-a-Depends adult diaper insouciance -- and don't forget the car trunk, big enough to carry golf clubs, two cases of Ensure, and our second wife's wheelchair.
To borrow a line from James Brown, the male's obdurate lust for cars might be "a man's world, but it would be nothing without a woman or a girl." Lest I be accused of being a sexist pig (J'accuse! FatScribe, J'accuse!), women love their rides as well, as many of you, Dear Reader, have attested to over the last couple of years in this space. Los Angeles is the car capitol of the world. I regularly see Bugattis and Porsche GT's and Lamborghinis which cost in excess of a $1,000,000, $500,000 and $350,000 respectively, being driven by those of the fairer sex (J'accuse, encore! FatScribe!).
Many are the magnificent days when I have ogled, er, appreciated the beautiful, confident starlet in her convertible Porsche (Heather Locklear), or her economy friendly ride (Holly Robinson [before the] Peete) or proudly valeting her eco-warrior white Toyota (TV's Donna Mills when she and I were at MGM at the old campus in Santa Monica). And, we have all been equally horrified at the horrific horror befalling us L.A. drivers as Paris, and Britney and Halle made their collective and curvaceous ways from Malibu to Beverly Hills leaving collisions, lovers (male and female), and empty retail stores in their wake (nod to TMZ for their photographic and video inculpatory evidence submitted to the court of pubic opinion nightly).
.Submitted (infra) for your perusal (and input!), a collection of a half-dozen iconic cars that FatScribe would have little trouble adopting any one (or all) as his own. Here are my choices for:
- Best Urban Transpo
- The People Mover
- The Foul Weather Friend
- The American
- The Classic
- The Guilty Pleasure
- Epilogue: The FatMobile
______________________________Best Urban Transpo: Mini Cooper (convertible, shown atop the page)
|Fiat's Urban Transpo U.S. Entry|
There are also offerings from Aston Martin, Mercedes, the Americans, and every Japanese company in this category of small and snappy sub-compacts. What about your choice for urban transpo car?
______________________________The People Mover: Porsche Panamera
|Four Door Sports Car?|
Runner up for my people mover? The Maserati Quattroporte.
______________________________The Foul Weather Friend: Range Rover Supercharged
|Best British Babysitter on Wheels|
If you had to choose a vehicle that you felt protected your brood the best, let us all know what it would be ... can't wait to read your choices.
______________________________The American: Chrysler 300
|Chrysler300 -- 5 mins. from Neptune's Net!|
|Rolls Royce looking in rear view mirror for upstart Americans!|
Sidebar: the Chrysler above is pictured about 5 mins from a favorite place that my kids and family and friends love to eat at on PCH, Neptune's Net. Decent food, and great location. My nephew was recently in a surf competition across the street last weekend (sorry to rub it in, East Coast!).
Do you dare, Dear Reader, to nominate any Americans here? C'mon, I double-dog dare you!
______________________________The Classic: 1951 Ford Pickup
|Classic Ford Pickup|
______________________________The Guilty Pleasure: Hyundai Genesis
|Hyundai Genesis Sedan|
the grand gesture.
Shelley from Shelley's House thought this piece might be about the cars I've owned before. Hmm, I'm not really the Willie Nelson/Julio Iglesias sort of guy to peck out some sad/fond/cocksure prose about cars I've loved, mistreated, and left, literally, in a field before. (this needs some clarification: there was a very admirable family car -- not really mine, but the story's worth the telling -- a Fiat Sport 124 coupe, that my brothers used a tractor to bury on the large ranch of Buddy Ebsen. Still there to this day. Great car.) That would be a terrific idea if I had actually owned any decent cars, but someday I might write about them, Ms. Shelley, but I'd really like to read your post on the subject. Here though, is my car (supra) and its quick story.
It was a God thing (literally) when I bought it a couple of years ago. It has been bullet-proof in its delivery of performance and protection for my two sons. It's all-wheel drive, and has been to Mammoth (Sierra Nevadas) and San Diego, carrying snowboards, surfboards, skateboards and two boys with their personal gameplayers, music devices, novels, In-n-Out grub-fest and movie-playing laptops. Plus, it does really look great at night, all shiny with its LED rear panel and very nice, toothy grill upfront (notice, I didn't say toothy girl). It's certainly not my dream car, but I'm so thankful to have it.