It’s true that most of us drift along in traffic, not really noting the specifics of most of the cars around us. I’m as guilty of that as Mike apparently is. I can’t agree, though, about those stand-out cars. The cars that “pop” for me on the road aren’t beat up or noisy; the cars that turn my head aren’t belching smoke.
No, for me it’s a classic Mustang convertible that catches my eye amidst all the ordinary cars, a car that’s beautiful and shiny and maybe even brings back good memories.
In their way, both types of cars stand out. Both differ from the norm and so there’s a contrast that might draw our attention to them…but there’s more involved than just catching our attention, isn’t there? Because while we might notice that car with no muffler and black smoke pouring out where the exhaust pipe should be on the road, few of us follow the owner to a nearby parking lot to ask whether or not he might want to sell that car. Happens all the time if you drive a ‘68 Mustang.
I suspect that the reason Mike spots those noxious beaters and I see late-sixties Firebirds and MG convertibles has something to do with history. One thing I know nothing about (and this actually seems odd, now that I’m thinking about it) is Mike’s history with cars. But I grew up with unforgettable cars. During my childhood my parents had a ‘68 Firebird convertible, a silver ‘74 Camaro, a ‘46 Ford Coupe, a ‘54 Ford panel truck, a ‘58 MG convertible and an early-seventies Olds 442. Those cars are familiar and comfortable for me–just the sight of them makes me happy.
And I’m wondering whether the people who stand out don’t stand out for similar reasons. Is it the most noxious person in the room–the equivalent of the car that’s burning oil and smelling up the whole street–that catches one’s attention, or the person who is most familiar and comfortable?
I’m with both of you on this. Last night at work, I took a break from the Sunday night academic library blues, and went outside to do a logic puzzle and smoke. Then I saw one of our regular, hardcore-studying students walking away from a car that was *different*. Ooh, not another Daddy’s Beemer Mercedes. I can’t name model and year and a glance like Tiffany and our dad, but yep, it was actually a Cooper Mini. My break was instantly shinier. I looked at the kid, and suddenly thought he was more attractive than I remembered. “That yours?”
Nervous look, since he left it in front of the building with his hazards on, and I am an Authority Figure.
“Nice.”
I approach. It’s neato. Now that I’m a Jeep driver, though, I realize I really loathe plastic and fiberglass anything. I have a thing for rims, however. Mini rims are damned cute.
I’m thinking this thing can’t handle worth a damn in the snow, and not missing being low to the ground (unless it’s a Mustang–ANY Mustang), when I notice the tires.
They’re so smooth they might as well have had a chemical peel. Ewww.
I can’t believe I thought, even for a second, that kid with the bald tires was remotely attractive.
It’s gotta be what you grow up with, yes, but even the baddest of bad boys has to know THAT much to hold my interest past a stoplight glance.
Tiffany, it is interesting that we haven’t talked much about cars (if at all). It seems to be a topic of interest for both of us.
Of course my eyes would be drawn to an older model Corvette Stingray but if a pinto backfired behind me I would get distracted.
“The baddest of bad boys”…seriously? Would you want them to hold your interest?