I have a theory, well it’s not a theory it’s an observation. Well it’s not really an observation it’s a parable, no that’s not it either. It’s an analogy. Yeah, that’s it, an analogy and it has to do with men. I know, I know. Look, have you seen the url? Get with it.
Without expounding on all aspects of my sex life, suffice to say I have been single for a while now and I date a lot and not every date ends up in the hay but once you’ve decided to date someone for a while, part of the process is finding out what your chemical compatibility is and I don’t mean H2O. Barring sending a canary into the coal mine (see prior entry) sometimes you have to actually put your toes in the water to feel the temperature and there’s no way to do that without getting water on your feet.
That’s not the analogy. There’s more.
I have found in my travels – I decline to use the words sexual exploits, it’s tawdry – that one comes across different people with different tastes and styles and that’s all fine. Here comes the analogy part.
All guys like cars. Some like them more and some like them less but I had a snazzy car once and even little 2 year old boys would stop and watch as I passed so one has to think that’s somehow genetically programmed although hard to say how since most genetic programs began in the cave man days, pre-Lexus shall we say, so I’m hard pressed to know how fast shiny objects got into their DNA because hunting a woolly mammoth is neither fast nor shiny, but as usual, I digress.
Back to the cars. Men like them. Some like jeeps and some like jaguars, some like low to the ground and some like fast, some like red, some like large engines but I think it’s safe to say most men like cars.
Now I’ll start with the men who don’t know how to drive cars. They never learned, they have no interest, they walk. Walking is good exercise and for the purpose of this story, they do not exist. Only for this purpose. Personally I love walkers, I think they should be able to marry.
Beyond them are guys who think they know how to drive but they are pushing the car from behind and it is rolling. They think this is driving. It’s like watching small children who are ‘swimming’ by sort of crawling through the water, pulling their arms over their heads and landing their palms on the sand under the water and thinking you will not notice, scream “Look at me, I’m swimming” and you both know they are lying but in order not to break their little hearts you respond “Oh yes dear, that’s nice.” I think that’s enough said about that. The bright side is these guys are pushing it from behind and not pulling it up the hill, but that’s really taking lemons and making lemonade. The unsweetened kind.
The next level up is guys who know how to drive cars. You put in the key, you press the gas, it goes. Once in a while you take it for a tune up, you throw around words like carburetor and spark plugs because you know them and you hope today’s cars still have those parts so you don’t sound like an idiot but those are pretty much safe words to use so that the mechanic thinks you know a little bit about what those parts do although both you and he know you don’t, but you both play the game. The car runs. It’s functional; it gets you to where you want to go. These men have been married to some poor woman who didn’t have a lot of driving experience herself and she thinks this guy knows how to drive because while the car goes forward it never revs but if you tell someone you’re revving the engine and they never heard one before they can believe it. They think, oh, that’s what revving the engine sounds like. Poor things. Just don’t let them watch NASCAR and you’re probably home free.
Then there are the guys who know the difference between the parts of the engine. They actually understand how the car runs and they can drive a stick. Stick shift, that is. They can capably drive in traffic, weave in and out without you biting your nails or white knuckling the dashboard. These guys don’t speed and don’t get road rage but they’re competent and once in a while they rev the engine, by mistakenly hitting the gas a little too hard and everyone goes “whoa” and smiles a little, how’d THAT happen? This is most guys.
The next step up is guys who really get cars. They can really talk to the mechanic, know what the parts do and even can point them out under the hood, so long as there’s not a supercomputer sitting atop the whole thing. Those kinds of brains can obfuscate the works. But this guy, he can weave in and out of traffic at high speeds. He knows when he is revving the engine and can do it pretty regularly at will. He makes your hair stand a little bit on end and yet you never really feel that he is reckless or dangerous although on occasion he does get pulled over for speeding. You remember what the love of driving is all about and even days when it’s just a normal car ride the pleasure of the simplicity is in itself a joy. You look forward to regularly driving with this guy because you get where you are going fast and in a fun fashion and after all, isn’t that what the joy of driving is all about? Percentage-wise I’m going to say this is about 8%.
Then there’s the one guy, and you only get one of these in a lifetime I’m pretty sure about that. This guy was born driving. It’s in his blood. He doesn’t need to talk about the engine or even own a fancy car. He is one with the car. It purrs under his control. He can speed it up and bring it to the edge and then pull it back and speed it up again and pull it back again and you barely notice the ebb and flow on the speedometer but something inside you goes forward and backward and you don’t know where you’re going or how much time has passed but you never, I repeat NEVER want to leave that car. You just want to sail off into the sunset with that car. He just smiles and says “yeah”. Yeah. This guy hasn’t even spoiled the other guys for you because you know only this guy knows how to drive like this. He belongs in the driver’s hall of fame and if you’re lucky you got to spend a few months out on the road with him.
Now most women are thinking I am not with the car pusher upper nor the guy who knows how to push the gas pedals. Most women think they are with the competent driver and most men think they are that guy or probably the guy who really gets cars. You can’t know because of a few variables. First is the passenger. You have to have a passenger who enjoys the ride you like to provide. A person who gets nervous when the car hits 65 in a 40 speed zone is not the right person for the guy who likes to push 70. That’s what the whole dating/mating/chemistry whatever thing is partly about. But of course there are people who have never been in a car, or precious few, and really don’t know the difference. And driving is a funny thing. No one wants to tell someone they are a bad driver, back seat drivers get yelled at. Another variable of course is how you feel about the driver. Sometimes sitting back with the cruise control on and moseying about is just fine. You know what revving is but you adore the driver, the scenery is enough, the wind in your hair is nice, the sun on your skin. It’s all good. You forget you’re even in a car. How great is that?
I like driving, I like men who drive. Driving skills can be taught and learned, passion though, while we all have it, needs to be found – you can’t learn it. It exists or not. It’s a sense. It should be considered the 6th sense.
No moral , no parable. End of story.