To anyone who has grown up male in the United States, driving an automobile transcends the rather rudimentary coordination one needs to stay in lane on highways. For reasons that swell Freudian literature, driving becomes a symbolic, even a sexual act. (Praised be the soft enchantress who likes the way we shift.)
Marxist sociologists suggest that we see ourselves in the cars we choose. Young, assertive, loud, one is a Triumph or a Porsche. As we become more burdened, we evolve into Ford station wagons. Last seen of all that ends this strange...
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