By Manuel Carrillo III

 

As a reader of The Neave you probably don’t give a rat’s ass about cars. Perhaps you think they’re just another appliance. If you own a car, you probably drive a Toyota Camry or some other form of sensible, uncomplicated transportation. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, that’s a smart way of living. Why submit yourself to a life of automotive lust? That’s just another way to lose money that could be spent elsewhere to enrich your life – three cheers and a gold star for you.

As the future number-one automotive journalist in North America, I am able admit to you that the automobile is just another appliance for life’s necessities. I can also admit that cars make life more complicated … but despite those admissions, I cannot control the rush of blood to my man parts when my eyes fall upon any one of the newest German luxury sedans.

Yes, I suffer from automotive lust, but rather than condemn my suffering, I embrace it. Judge me all you want, but it’s my vice, and what a lovely vice it is.

The motorcar’s ability to make the edges of my mouth stretch into a smile is a very profound quality for a machine. My vacuum cleaner can’t make me smile. Even if I attached two hoses to the opposing sides of my face and flipped the red “on” switch, still, my vacuum cleaner can’t make me smile. Cars are just magical like that. They are so near and dear to my life, I compare my relationship with cars to marriage.

The Early Years

I was young and didn’t know any better when I wed my first car. That first “marriage” needed a lot of maintenance. Sometimes it was a nightmare. My first car was a 1991 Ford Mustang GT convertible with 400,000 miles. Like a bad marriage out of high school, it was out of necessity. But it was a fun car. It was called “Mustang” for a reason. Driving it was like being unleashed on a wide Kansas plain, running untamed among the horses. That car was like sex in young married life: it was really wild, but basic … simply an engine and wheels.

The Second Marriage

A few years later just before I graduated college, I bought my first brand-new car – a 2008 Mazda 3 hatchback. That car had every option a typical Mercedes has … leather, rain-sensing wipers, heated seats, Xenon headlights, Bose sound system.

This was like marriage with someone very kind, accommodating and loving, but physically unattractive. Any time I’d walk up to that car, I was bothered. It looked like a miniature minivan. It disturbed me.

But it was nice: it had heated seats after all. A car with heated seats is like a kinky-sex marriage. Imagine having a partner who is always intent on fulfilling your special requests in the bedroom … that was how the Mazda was. That car warmed my bum … kinky.

Current Car – Third Time’s the Charm

Just after graduating college and just 10 months and 10 days after signing the papers on my Mazda, I could take no more of the miniature minivan syndrome. I became the proud owner of a brand-new Audi A4 … the car I wanted all throughout college. I figured I deserved a college graduation present to myself.

Because it was an Audi, I could not yet afford all the options. The Mazda was better equipped, but now every time I walk up to my Audi, instead of becoming disturbed, I start nursing a semi – Audi designs devastatingly attractive cars. My current car is not quite a trophy wife … like an Audi R8 or Lamborghini Gallardo … but it’s on the right track. There’s a little something lacking in the bedroom, but the things that are good are really good! The Audi may not have Xenon headlights, rain-sensing wipers or heated seats for that extra kinky element, but it does have a turbo, and a car with a turbo is like a woman with huge breasts – I find it attractive.

So now I have one of the cars I longed for in my Mustang days, but with the Mustang dead and decomposing on my side yard, I do miss it. Although my Audi is much easier to live with every day, I yearn to get my Mustang running again. I yearn to recapture some of my wild youth in the same way an octogenarian wishes he could still nurse a semi.

Luckily, I still own my Mustang. When it is running again, I’ll be able to have the best of both worlds: like being 80 years old and married to someone the same age who shares your wisdom, yet having a wild fling on the side with an 18-year-old. Good thing there’s no law against automotive polygamy.

A Suggestion for You

Because matrimonial polygamy is illegal in most countries, here’s some advice to you, sir or madam Neave-reader: if you find your life is becoming stale in your 80s – maybe even your 20s, I suggest complicating things – develop a lust for cars … they may get the juices flowing again.