Men and their cars

March 8, 2015

I really don’t get what all the fuss is about. “My car has a V8 engine.” “Mine has 480 horsepower.” “Check out those 21 inch alloy wheels.”

Well I drive a bright red Mini Cooper with two black stripes up front and I think I’m pretty damn cool. I can drive up to 140km/hour on Sheikh Zayed road all the while listening to the radio. The AC works wonderfully and I feel comfortable and safe. That’s all I need. Why do I need it to drive at a ridiculous speed when the speed limit around the city is set at 120km/hour? We’re neither in Germany nor competing in a Formula 1 race.

Last weekend I went to a Porsche rally at the Dubai Autodrome with a group of guys. Oh my God, we had to stop and stare at every single car. I pretended to be extremely intrigued by the rims and body of each uncomfortable looking vehicle and enthusiastically took pictures of them with each race car. It’s not your car though. I just don’t get it. Call me crazy.

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Yes, I realize there are many women out there that love cars and know all the fancy babble that goes with it. That’s just not me. I must be missing that “car loving gene”.

I worked as a waitress at the Montreal Formula 1 back in my younger days and I never understood the excitement surrounding it. I’m pretty sure Michael Schumacher himself passed by next to me and I didnt glance twice. But I do recall my ears were buzzing for a few days post race.

My male colleagues are trying to convince me to get a Porsche convertible. I used to frown upon people with Porsches, until I realized everyone and their grand mother drives a Porsche in Dubai. Yes I’m considering it. But I’m also considering a Range Rover, and a Vespa. So I’m not exactly convinced yet. The thing that mind boggles me is why would I spend so much money on a depreciating asset? It won’t get me to work any faster. Wouldn’t the money be better invested in a house or gold? That’s my finance side talking.

Motorcycles are a different story. They make my heart beat really fast. I was promised a ride in a Kawasaki zx10r this week by some new friends I made over the weekend. My parents won’t be pleased with this though; last time I rode a Harley with the Harley crew of Dubai and they couldn’t sleep until I confirmed I was back home safely. Now I don’t know the specs that come with motorcycles but I definitely understand the rush. It’s absolute freedom. You can feel the fresh air, the sound of the engine, it’s as close to flying (while remaining firmly on the ground) as you can get.

If anyone can explain to me how exactly to fall in love with cars as men do, I’ll gladly go buy myself a Porsche. Although I’ll probably be more excited about the fancy display plaque they send you stating you’ve entered the UAE Porsche club.

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