A lot, if you care much about what you drive. Even if you’re not a car enthusiast, your choice of vehicle says a lot about your state of mind. It’s very much a status thing (read: it’s about the girls). And how you attempt to project that status (or not), through your choice of vehicle, says a lot about you. In the ecosystem of our roadways, there are many breeds of driver. These are just a few.
Are You This Guy?
The “Madoff”: You drive cars that are made in Europe and are designed only to be driven to political fund-raisers and stores that sell toilet paper scented with the tears of dolphins. You’re Richie Rich rich, and your car is designed to indicate that you have the means to buy a house, but chose a car instead and parked it in the mansion I’ll be ransacking when the zombie apocalypse hits.
The Professor: You drive a Prius, or a Leaf, or something else with a battery. You don’t really care about the environment, but you want everyone at the Whole Foods to think you do. On the freeway, you do your part to reduce fuel-consumption by riding in the left lane below the speed-limit. Your beard is immaculate.
The Psychopath: You drive an old van from the ‘70s, possibly with a mural on the side featuring wolves howling at the moon. Unless you’re riding with some hippies to Burning Man, you’re a psychopath, and even then you’re suspect. You’ve watched way more CSI than is healthy, and when I look into your eyes, I see a cold, empty shell staring back at me. No, I don’t want any of your candy.
The Big Ride: You drive an Escalade, Suburban or a Tahoe, even though you have no children. Alternatively, you may own an extended cab truck with the obligatory lift kit that ensures you need a step-ladder. You’re the fat guy on the airplane. You take up multiple spaces in parking lots, throw your weight around on the freeway, and there may or may not be truck-nuts dangling from your trailer-hitch (at least you’ve embraced it). It’s not that the ladies know that your giant truck is compensating for a small *ahem*. They just assume it is. And chances are you’ll never get a chance to prove them wrong amid the snickering.
The Rugged Outdoorsman: You drive a Subaru with a bike rack on the hatch-back and skis strapped to the roof. The mud on your wheel wells is from driving places that responsible members of society have decided don’t deserve the asphalt, but you’ve decided are a great place to spend your weekend. You’re in disgustingly good shape, but you refuse to shave your neck-beard. You will outlive me by half a century.
image by Blippitt