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American Woman Mortorscene
COMMENTS FROM COURTNEY
When Your Car Is Sexier Than Your Man... And More Dependable
by Cortney Caldwell
I can just hear what some of you must have been
thinking when you saw the title of my column this month: "What
is she ... nuts?" or "Boy, she must have a really
boring life!" (which I do, but that's another story,
another time) or "Now this is something I can relate to."
Well, no matter what you're thinking right now, I feel pretty
confident that by the time you're finished reading this column,
you'll have found something you can relate to.
This idea came to me quite some time ago, as I watched
more and . more women buying their own cars and trucks, especially
buying the hot sports cars, sport utility vehicles, . pickups
and super sexy and elegant . luxury cars, like the Cadillac Eldorado,
Lexus LS400 and Lincoln Mark VIII. Having been a bit of a car
nut for most of my life, I can remember clearly the days of women
driving Stepford Wives station wagons and sensible cars that husbands
bought for them. God forbid we even thought about driving a Corvette,
never mind buying one. That was man's domain.
The mere thought brings back memories of a couple
that I went to high school with, Ray and Dianne (boy, am I old),
who eventually got married. As soon as Ray bought that brand-new
1967 396 stick-shift, bucket-seated Chevelle, the marriage started
to crumble. He'd spend every waking minute driving it-you know,
elbow out the window, driving with one finger, right hand on the
shifter knob, kind of hunched over to give him that extra-cool
look, butt hanging from his mouth, T-shirt sleeves rolled up,
peeling out at every corner, red-light and stop sign ... you know
the type. And when he wasn't driving it, he was cleaning it or
bragging on it.
Well, being Ray's pride and joy, he wouldn't let
Dianne anywhere near that Chevelle of his. Drive it? I think not.
I don't think she could even breathe near it. Why, he'd barely
let her sit in it unless he was with her. Their one-year-old was
forbidden to go near it for fear of ghastly drool, and he wouldn't
even take his wife shopping in it, in case a piece of fish fouled
up the interior.
Nice guy, eh? Finally, one day- while I was there,
mind you-they had this huge fight over his Chevelle. Boy, was
she jealous of that car. Can't say that I blame her. Of course,
he had the last word, 'cause back then, men were God, you see,
so out the door she flew, slamming it as hard as hell behind her.
Yep! She was a mite angry.
I watched in awe as she fled down their front steps
in a fury toward that shiny gold Chevelle, which never did have
a scratch on it. And with one very determined, hard, swift, angry
aberration, this wife of Ray's put a dent the size of Rhode Island
in that passenger door with her boot. Well, naturally, he came
running out screaming, "What have you done? I'll kill
you! Look at my car! Oh, my God!" and just about every
other thing you can imagine.
I don't remember if I left at that point or if I
was in such a state of shock that I just can't remember what happened
next. What I do know is that Dianne lived and they did get a divorce.
Clearly, his Chevelle was sexier than his woman.
We've come such a long way since then, I'd like to
believe, and if we wait long enough, things eventually change
or come full circle. Now that 57 million women are working nationwide,
they have much more disposable income than ever before-giving
them power and control over their own buying decisions, not to
mention destinies. Nice, isn't it?
For the most part, most of us are now far removed
from the days of sensible cars, the perfect Packard and the family
wagon. Today, 60 percent of all Camaros and Mustangs are being
sold to women. Now, if those cars ain't sexy, then I don't know
what is. You see them tooling down the freeway all the time, and
most of the time there's a woman behind the wheel. The profile?
Young professional, under 30, enjoying her life, her career and
her freedom.
But don't let that fool you into believing that 20-something
ladies are the only ones enjoying a hot new ride. There's plenty
of us 30- and 40-somethings moving into cool cars, like the gorgeous
Cadillac Seville SLS pictured here with my beautiful daughters
(and I do say that with all objectivity, of course).
With women's newfound independence comes self-assurance:
that sometimes it's perfectly fine-and often more fun-to hang
with the girls in your shiny new ride, maintaining your own cruise
control. The emotional attachment that women have developed for
their rides now is reminiscent of the attachment that once was
exclusive to men.
Women don't a ways buy a vehicle because it's practical.
They, too, want that same feel-good sensation when driving. And,
for many a woman, that new set of wheels has become her center,
her sense of pride, proof of her accomplishment and, in many cases,
her replacement for that less-than-dependable man of hers.
While a brand-new vehicle requires some maintenance,
it does show its affection and gratitude in return by making you
feel good when you re cruising around. A clean, shiny car, whether
new or old, a ways strokes the ego and is always there when you
need it most. It takes you places you've never been and doesn't
complain about how far away the destination is. Once you're there,
it waits patiently for your return, whenever that might be.
No doubt, taking care of your car is high-maintenance,
time-consuming and labor-intensive at times, but so are boyfriends
and husbands. In return for your labors of love, unlike your man,
your wheels always look good. You never see your car sit in front
of a T set on a beautiful Sunday afternoon drinking beer and watching
football games, or hanging around the local pub on Friday night
with other cars. It never makes you wait, but instead waits humbly
in your driveway to serve your every whim and desire to flee at
any given moment.
It obeys your every command with the turn of only
a key. A I you need to do is summon and your humble ride will
turn on, go slow, go faster, stop, leave you a one, go with you
anywhere and look as good as you want, any time, anywhere, any
place. What more could you want?
Watch out, guys! The boys in Detroit (and the women,
too, now) have been hard at work making gorgeous, sexy cars that
they're now seducing your women with, and if you're not really
careful, those Detroit fellas are gonna lure them right out from
under you with a car that's sexier than you.
And I say, "Why not?" Most women
I know would prefer a fast car over a fat husband any day. If
you don't believe me, just ask 'em.
Want more information? Search the web!
Search The Auto Channel!
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