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

My own father has ever been really outdoorsy, which fit him perfectly. He worked as a life scientist, but is retired now. Pick up a fossil here; chip a rock there, that’s my daddy. He never managed to acquire any fondness for machinery. He was brought up by his parents to act like a gentleman, but motors and geartrains seemed to dredge up the worst in him. I have early memories of him swearing the Industrial Age as he was bent over an engine.

My father would invariably change the tires on our VW van when they required it, but you would never see him drool over aftermarket center caps or custom chrome grille work on a car. You might see him checking the H2O level in the radiator or putting some Rustoleum on spots that had rusted on the van, but you would never see him using a toothbrush to scrub headlights or using Q-tips to clean the knobs on the dash. These things just didn’t take place in our garage.

Then Again, my father-in-law is a car man through & through. I wouldn’t be astonished if he knew every make, model, and year of every vehicle that ever graced the Pennsylvania turnpike. He is happy to spend a Weekend afternoon checking out cars at an Antique Car Club Show or scrubbing up the whitewalls on his car.

He graduated rapidly from a teething ring to a pitchfork and pliers while growing up in a rural area of Pennsylvania. Learning all about animal husbandry and the ABCs of mechanics was expected of young farm boys. His interest in things with gadgets, wheels, and motors seemed to stick even though any fondness for animals did not. He made the decision to leave the farm and go to college and he never looked back.

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

He keeps his car full of petrol, but would in all likelihood use his American Racing center caps as paperweights on his desk, than as a trendy way to pimp his ride. Not that he has anything against someone who toils over their center caps. He vacuums his vehicle bi-annually, but is content to motor about town with “Wash me!” scribbled above his rusted bumper for a year at a time.

Our daughter’s boyfriend is just like my father in law, but a bit more juiced. He got a high performance muffler kit as a gift last month and has been thrilled ever since beyond his exhaust growls deeply. You can see that our daughter is in the throes of love when you listen to her talk about how you can hear him coming from a mile away.

It’s true that men and the relationships they have with their automobiles are complicated. It seems that these relationships can be an expression of some men’s masculinity, while other men handle their cars as an opponent that’s a nuisance that must be conquered or endured.

Many men blaspheme their cars and some name them. Many men give their cars plenty of TLC while some campaign for bragging rights because their car has the highest mileage or is the most beat up. Men exchange car stories over beers, just like war stories are shared around a campfire.

Why else would the auto industry regularly sell billions of dollars in decals, automobile alarms, hoods, tailpipes, center caps, dashboard accessories, fancy headlights, window tinting, backup sensors, seat covers, rims, and chrome?

Whether the ride in the driveway is the reason for cooing or cursing, there has to be some sort of mechanized mojo occurring – something like, “if you build it, he will come.”