Car Freak

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My husband is a car aficionado. And by that, I mean he is a complete freak about cars: there is not enough knowledge in the world to satiate his seemingly endless curiosity about automobiles.

When we were first dating, in the very early months, I noticed that he spent an awful lot of time on his computer. My mind did not want to ‘go there’ but of course, ‘there’ is exactly where my mind went. I knew there was only one thing that a man could possibly be doing if he was spending that much time staring at his computer screen. I am ashamed to admit this, but early on, against all the voices telling me not to, I found myself sneaking up on him one evening to determine whether my worst fears were correct.

“You’re looking at CAR sites?!” I exclaimed in astonishment when I had gotten a good look – not just at the site he was looking at, but at all the other tabs he had opened as well. “Well, what else would I be looking at?” he asked, clearly perplexed.

Over the years, I have discovered that there must be hundreds of car sites and an uncountable number of car reviewers on YouTube. Not to mention all the books. I wouldn’t have thought that there could be that much to learn about car transmissions, and braking systems, and all-wheel thingies. And it’s not just cars – there are just as many people out there doing videos about tires (I swear!): what on earth anyone could find to say ad nauseum about tires just boggles my mind but find it and say it, they do.

When we go anywhere, my husband prefers to ‘listen to the sound of the motor’ – I kid you not – than to listen to music (this is when the movie version of my husband, played by Sylvester Stallone, would be saying “Music?! We don’t NEED no freakin’ music!”). My husband is a walking encyclopaedia about whatever car we happen to be driving. And he actually thinks that whatever interesting tidbit of information that he is about to share regarding the (driving shaft/torque system) has me as riveted as he is. He is deaf to my protests: “You know, I’m really not that interested in knowing about the (insert name of car thingie here).” “Yes, yes,” he says excitedly, “But just listen to the way the motor…” And he is off on another enthralling monologue about the frigging car.

When we shop for a car I have just four questions:

1. How much does it cost?
2. Is it good on gas?
3. Does it have a good overall rating (and I only started asking that question after I married my knowledgeable husband)
4. Does it have lots of hidey-holes for our stuff? (we have a dog who chews things so that is a pretty valid question)

When we do purchase a car, my husband will (of course) have been researching the vehicle ‘we’ are interested in for the past four months. There is nothing left to learn about the car. And yet, for at least a year after we get home, he continues to do his research on the same car and to somehow find endless fodder for his upcoming car monologues.

Not long after we got married, he went through his midlife crisis. It could have been worse: true to his undying passion for cars, he bought a Mercedes: a fast, close-to-the-road sports car that was completely unsuited for our harsh Canadian climate. Luckily, the phase didn’t last long and he traded it in for something a little more appropriate for a 7-month winter. Just prior, though, we were leaving a restaurant, headed toward our car, when I tried to get in on the passenger side, to no avail. I looked over at him with a quizzical expression. Usually, he opens the door for me but he was just standing there with a disgusted look on his face. “What?!” I asked, completely bewildered. “Patti, that’s NOT our car!” It really doesn’t matter (to me) what kind of car it was, but the difference was apparently glaringly obvious to him. My only response was, “Well, it’s the same colour!”. He rolled his eyes, completely mystified at my apparent poor vision and horrified at my lack of car savvy and class.

I disappointed him terribly that day: he has never quite gotten over it…

(*) Source of photo (if women ruled the world)

Patti Moore Wilson © wednesdayschildca.wordpress.com

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