Men in general love to talk about their wheels. They handle the subject like they do a certain parts of their anatomy – with love and comparison. And with a conviction that no-one’s is better than theirs.

We love men who talk about cars, because that is what we ultimately expect them to do on some subconscious, stereotypical level. What we don’t like is when they start describing the subject of adoration to us. Suddenly we are bombarded with facts and statistics that sound more like a monologue out of Star Trek than anything else. Not wanting to offend out better halves, we issue the obligatory awe sounds while thinking of how ridiculous we sound and how any minute now, they are going to ask us to repeat what they said. A dialogue may go something like this :

Man : I should take you for a ride in my new car sometime, so you can feel what a real car is like.

Woman: Oh ok – that’l be cool.

Man: (sounding amazed that his partner did not jump up and down in unsupressed glee) No you don’t understand – this car is like, top of the range, it has a…(the male continues to utter very foreign terms and descriptions that apparently has something to do with the car)

Woman: (sounding as appreciative as possible but a tad confused as to why the male is freaking out) Oh yeah that sounds really great. We should go.

Man: Great? Great!? That’s not just great, its ……(who knows what he just said) and Michael Shumacher has the upgraded version of that, so that is the best there is!

Woman: (even more fazed than she was, but luckily recognizes the name Schumacher so makes a duck out of the conversation as fast as humanly possible) Oh! Yeah! I would LOVE to do that. Wow, I can’t wait! (She feigns enthusiasm and then makes an excuse – something that sounds like a woman problem and practically runs to the bathroom)


Counterstrike successful.