A Good Slave Is Like A Fine Car

One could make this comparison between a car and any woman, and God knows that has been done many times before, but I don't think it is appropriate. For one thing, women of any kind are not actually objects. No one should "own" them, unless they want to be. The "woman as a car" makes more sense with a certain type of woman (or man); the type that is happiest when pleasing their... driver... The sort that finds great satisfaction in the attention of, and being of great value to, another. I'm not making a value judgment about other types of people. There is room for everyone and viva la difference. But a good slave... ahh....

A good slave is like a fine car: Sometimes you just want to drive it, maybe to release tension after a long day, or maybe just for the pure joy of driving. You're proud of your car, you enjoy it, you picked the one you did for its looks and the way it handled.

When you take it out, you aren't gentle with it... you drive it as hard as you can. You burn some rubber off the tires and you rev the engine so it gets really nice and hot under the hood. You don't worry if it's going to get a little dirty or wet; you know it will clean up well later. The car is there for you to use. This is the purpose of a car, what the car was made for, and the car knows it.

On the other hand, you do NOT push your baby further than it can handle. You don't want to wreck it or end up stranded without a ride, right? And you may not be thinking about how your ride feels or whether or not the drive is as good for it as it is for you while you scream around the corners, but you do take care of her needs. If she is running low on gas, you take the time to stop and fill up. And you want to know when she needs that. It wouldn't be good if the gas gauge stuck and failed to let you know it was running empty. You need for your car to let you know when something is going wrong. You keep an eye on the gauges and you trust that the gauges are providing an accurate indication of how things are working. You might just have one red "check engine" light or an entire series of dials and gauges that tell you every detail of internal operation. But you also listen; is there a groan that doesn't sound right? is the clutch slippery? Are the gears meshing right?

And when you get home, you don't just park it out in the sun and leave it. You wash it off, wipe it lovingly down, check for scratches or dents and keep it in a nice safe, clean garage.

In life, guys can't always go out and buy a (insert whatever the current hottest production model is now) and, in fact, there is no shame in driving an older model, led sled with big rounded fenders and a huge trunk. In fact, most of those guys who can buy the latest, hottest, sleek little models don't really get a warm reception at the local club. They tend not to know much about how to drive or what their ride is really all about. I'm happy for them, and the better a car you can find, well... more power to you. But that doesn't make you a real owner. It's the guys who really know what is under the hood who I respect. The ones who can take a car, tear into it and fix any problem, add any feature, really build a great machine from whatever they have. Sometimes, regular guys will end up with a hot ride that some rich jerk trashed and threw away. Then they lovingly and with great respect, tear it down and rebuild it into a magnificent performance machine. And they treasure it as no one else possibly could.

Like I said, there is no shame in driving an old Nova or Bel Air or even a Desoto or a Model T. But the other guys will see how much work you have put into her. How well you know her. How much you love her. How well you drive that ride on the local strip. What you can make her do. If all you can pick up is an old beater, so be it. But anyone can get out the buffing pad and the wax and make that paint glow. Get out the wallet, save your pennies and spring for some upgrades, put some new teeth in the old girl. Send her out to the paint booth for a new coat. I know it can't be, but I swear cars respond to that sort of thing... you can rub the road tar off their hubs and sidewalls and the engine will rev a little quicker. And when a guy really does everything that can be done for his ride, it always makes him proud out in public.

Which brings me to another point: You don't touch the paint job on another guys ride unless you are invited. And no one better mess with yours. That is YOUR ride. You own it in every sense of the word. Pay attention here girls; we all love it when other guys admire our baby. We want that car to turn heads and move so it gets a whistle and applause. We love to drive around town with the top down so we can watch the other guys drool. We might even take her out and race it in public instead of alone on those dark country back roads. Sometimes, if we really trust another driver, and we are having problems with something, we will loan the car to them to see if they can work in out the kinks. And, for some, there is nothing better than having a good buddy over to help with a major tune up. But we are doing all that because we love our car so much it hurts. We want the best for that little beauty. It reflects upon us and we will do anything we can to get our ride a little hotter. But never forget: It's still OUR car. We know that, we aren't trying to loose it.

And nothing is worse than having your car stolen. Well, except maybe doing something stupid and blowing it up yourself. Ahhh.. no, even that isn't the worst. The worst is letting it set. Always assuming it will be there when you need it. Maybe driving it once in a while but just letting it rot in between. Covering it with a frumpy old blanket and piling crap on it in the dusty corner of the garage until you can't even get in there and drive it any more. Sure, a lot of other shit keeps you busy, takes up your time; so many of us seem to be in the business of making go karts these days... Putting all your time into something else. I know I've made that mistake. You get to where you can't remember why the hell you bought it. You see other guys with those hot assed rides and you start thinking about selling the old carcass and buying something new. But like I said before: It isn't the age, size, make, model or disuse that makes the difference. It's how much blood, sweat and tears you put into that... lady. Have you noticed that the wannabes with the project cars that never get done, just go from one project car to another?

And believe me, it can be too late. Cars rust. They freeze up and no amount of lubricant will get them running again. Don't wait. Find the time and energy... Now... Invest it in your lady, and she will become one kick ass ride.

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This piece is dedicated to my wife of 12 year - my slave, and one damn fine ride if I do say so myself.