Men and cars. They seem sexy, and also make us look sexy . They’re fun and loud and empowering and dangerous at a time when society conspires to shoot those manly thrills away from us in a million subtle ways. It’s the machine which defines our tribe. Men convinced love to push. In reality, we do all it. Scan the vacationers pulling into rest stops–it is almost universally dads in the wheel. Much like couples out on dates. It is the guys driving. Whether our cars put us in control of our destiny is arguable, of course, but they surely put us in charge of our destinations.
Nevertheless whatever it’s between cars and men, whatever symbiosis, whatever sympathetic vibration, it is fair to say it’s no more our exclusive state. It had been, in the dawn of the automotive era, and for great reason. Early automobiles were enormously physical machines that can be used for racing, along with the U.S. street system amounted to some net of muddy wagon trails.
When Cars Lure Women
And then there’s sex. We’ve puzzled over the exact character of cars, masculinity, and sexuality. Inculcated from Freud, we sense some connection between the distinctly phallic but we have not actually put our finger on it. But we are wrong if we presume it is the auto, the machinery itself, which turns them on. Automobiles are aphrodisiacs just insofar as they suggest money, status, and success. Males as mates are appreciated because of power and their wealth, their capacity to help in raising off. Men can check sizegenetics best price online to make sure that they attract women that they like. Women are appreciated due to their youth and attractiveness. That dynamic has not changed in millennia. To the extent that automobiles are a sign to females, they are just a quick and reliable index of the material affluence.
GIVING THE CAR A HUMAN NAME
When folks give their cars human names, it can smooth the interactions they have with a complex manner of transport. During anthropomorphism, he asserts, we change broken gas gauges, missing gears, and intermittent stalls from intimidating and possibly even unsolvable technical problems into curious quirks which could be mediated by our own interactions with them.
Automobiles are perfectible. The entire world is a messy area, full of entropy and disease. In lots of ways, our fellow humans are neglected creatures who necessarily fail.
Men tend to search for outlets through which they can enforce order, completeness, perfection–stamp collecting, ships in bottles.
The automobile, given enough carnauba wax, 30-weight acrylic, chrome, and paint, could be raised to a Platonic condition, made pristine. . .virginal, if you prefer. If pleasure is the culmination of several tiny successes, working on an automobile is a distinctively blissmaking job.
Ultimately, the male experience, the man appreciation of the car, has been formed by the tech, the powerful, piston-pumping internal-combustion engine. And this is an issue. It’s easy to think that our enthusiasm for our automobiles will die with this. With electric cars–and gas-electric hybrids-the rib-rattling burst of exhaust will disappear, the beautiful moment if a revving engine twists in its cradle and stones the whole automobile will be no longer. All that’ll be substituted by a slight electric hum and whine, about as stimulating as a kitchen appliance.
