Cars
To some, a car is simply a mode of transportation, a means to an end. That’s me. You hop in, drive to your destination and hop out. Not very complicated.
However, to others a car is more than a car. It is often an extension of themselves. For instance, in the not-too-distant past, when gas guzzlers with no anti-smog devises were common, a special kind of man owned an El Dorado. To him, it was like driving a big penis. I hesitate to say what kind of a guy liked to tool around in a little Volkswagen Beetle. Enough said.
Although most women don’t drive vaginas, their choice of automobile often reflects their personalities as well. Many prefer that sleek, stylish and refined look.
My car is just a way to get around. It needs to have some of the basic necessities, of course. I prefer the usual safety features, decent pickup, climate 
control and a reasonable sound system. Since I don’t spend all of my life there, my auto doesn’t need to have all the comforts of home.
While I realize I’m likely in the minority when it comes to car owners, I think quite a few go overboard with their choices. The resulting expense from adding all the special features can rival the cost of buying a small condo. To me, that’s the epitome of excess and largess. Too much is way too much. When it comes right down to it, it’s still just a car.
For example, I don’t think there is really a need to have your auto serve you lunch (white or wheat?), with white wine, no less. Sure, having a voice barking directions at you while driving makes sense, but do they really need to be giving you fashion tips and reminding you to call your mother? On the other hand, for many (me included), carrying that multi-use spare jug in the trunk is a necessity. It’s there to serve as an emergency receptacle for that bursting bladder (kind of gives a different meaning to the term “fill ‘er up,” as well as a gas container for when you run out. However, there are those who insist on having their auto equipped with full bathrooms. That’s where I draw the line. Talk about mixing business with pleasure. Yeech!
And those self-parking cars are ridiculous, as far as I’m concerned. It takes all the fun and sport out of parallel parking—the sport being trying not to scrape up the tire too much on the curb.
No thanks. If you ever see me driving around, it is usually in my very utilitarian Maserati. Or on the weekends, I step it down to the Ferrari. I’ll likely trade in the Bentley, since the color now clashes with my favorite jeans. God bless America.
Tagged as: Cars