Vanity has a place in everyone's life, and there's nothing wrong with that. Though there's a fine line between vivacious vanity and vicious vice, there is a difference, and life would be pretty dang boring if we couldn't pursue lofty wants and desires.
For most of us guys, those daydream desires tend to be cars, flashy, shiny sports cars. Men have essentially two friends in life--the remote control to the living room television and that penis-like gearshift lever on his car! They call out to him, speaking to his outer-self—the one that comes out when his mind isn't cluttered with bills and other vulture-like responsibilities of being.
The sight of them, of those jagged edges and streamline designs, they speak to the vanity-loving, hair-combing side of man. The sight of shiny chrome and well-waxed paint, and the purring hum of a revving engine, imaging those potent cylinders pumping - pumping like you would the right lady at the right time - that's what sets some of us on fire. The desire to be pulled back into our seats from the G-force created from two, squealing tires, leaving 40 feet of rubber on the assfault and a distinctly hot odor in the air, that could well be called an American rite of passage into traditional western manhood!
But you have a shitty car, and not a classic one either. It's not a head-turner, probably not new, and may or may not be reliable. You may hate it because it sucks like the movie Shark Attack II, or you may hate it just because it's average. Either way, it ain't your dream car!
And (as though it needed to be stated), your poor ass could never afford a head-turning, new powerhouse anymore than you could a classic muscle car. What do you do when the Bugattis, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Porsches, Lotuses, NSXs, Corvettes, Mustangs, and other hotrod babies you only wish you owned are out of your price range? Simple. Just close your eyes and imagine! Doesn’t sound appetizing? Well, complete these steps...
Wash and wax your car: If you have a total junker with mostly primer showing or if the paint is chipping too badly, just skip this step. It's not that important.
Next, head to your local auto parts store and pick up a bottle of New Car Smell. Yes, dumb-ass, they have something like that! It's wonderful stuff! Get it and use it. And while you're there, get two other things: a new gear-shift knob (if applicable) and a new steering wheel cover, one that feels cool to play with. If you have the money and want to go that extra mile and buy a new tale-pipe – the kind that makes your car sound louder and more intimidating – by all means, do it. You might even go all out and buy a spoiler to go above the trunk. It all depends on just how much physical sensation you need to begin the imaginary journey.
In my case, all I need is the steering wheel cover to register hitting my fingertips. Those tactile sensations say everything to me. It is the "window to my soul" if ever there was one. Yep, I just sit in my driveway, taking a few moments to squeeze the outside of the newly covered steering wheel. Then, closing my eyes, it's like I'm in a Ferrari or a Lotus (whichever vehicle I happen to be drooling about at the time).
Carefully pulling out of my driveway, my imagination geared up for the trip, I begin my drive. With my hands firmly on the wheel, I tap the accelerator. Feeling the car lurch forward, I pretend I have so much power at my disposal that I won't ever need to call upon it! Should a Mustang Cobra pull up next to me and challenge me to a race, I'll just wave my hand at the driver. He is to be made light of because he is no match for me!
In my mind, heads are turning as I drive by. Everywhere I go, people are checking me out! I'm riding around like I'm on a commercial, hearing a director as he tells me to smile for the camera.
The menacing look of my Viper is apparent. It's your problem if you can't see it, pal! The back end of my Saleen S7 is stupefying. The sleek lines and arrow-dynamic bodystyle that every kid wants I have! Eat your heart out and watch me drive by, drinking a slurpy from Sonic! I should stick out my tongue, for crying out loud, but I won't. I'll be modest and just go slow, gently feeling the steering wheel on my fingertips and listening to the engine sing as I take off from each traffic light. And when I've had enough, I'll come back home.
It's the imagination – the ability of the mind to be satisfied with merely wanting a thing in place of actually having it – that is what counts. And very often, wanting a thing is far better than actually having it.
And I can go further; imagination only needs prompts, and occasionally props, to help it “take off.” For me, the small ones will suffice. I don’t even need a car to own one! My model of the Peugot 405 isn't limited to a certain bodystyle, a certain model, or a certain color. It doesn't lack a spoiler if I don't want it to, and it has no set speed barrier. It is as fast as I want it to go. And I can hold it in my hand from the comfort of my own couch and win any race I enter.
In the absence of a perfect world, it is required that we create one of our own. That realm, tailor-made by us, is ours and ours alone. No one else can claim it, conquer it, sabotage it, or invade it. Great things happen there, wonderful things that turn us into children again.
Better is the woman of the mind than in real life. More powerful is the kick delivered in combat of the mind than in real life; the kick in real life can only break a knee, but a kick in the mind can level an entire building. In the mind, I have no achy feet. There, I can leap from mountain to mountain, like Samson in his stride. There, I can move like Agent Smith from the Matrix. And tell me this…why the hell do I want a car payment, high insurance, and bad gas mileage when I can drive my true "dream car"?
And the point is made: those who possess imagination possess more than those discontented agonizers who are always chasing a dream, but never quite able to actually catch it and enjoy it. To have contentment is to have everything! Therein lies the true power of satisfaction. Whereas anyone can want and drool, few there are who can want to want!
(JH)
For most of us guys, those daydream desires tend to be cars, flashy, shiny sports cars. Men have essentially two friends in life--the remote control to the living room television and that penis-like gearshift lever on his car! They call out to him, speaking to his outer-self—the one that comes out when his mind isn't cluttered with bills and other vulture-like responsibilities of being.
The sight of them, of those jagged edges and streamline designs, they speak to the vanity-loving, hair-combing side of man. The sight of shiny chrome and well-waxed paint, and the purring hum of a revving engine, imaging those potent cylinders pumping - pumping like you would the right lady at the right time - that's what sets some of us on fire. The desire to be pulled back into our seats from the G-force created from two, squealing tires, leaving 40 feet of rubber on the assfault and a distinctly hot odor in the air, that could well be called an American rite of passage into traditional western manhood!
But you have a shitty car, and not a classic one either. It's not a head-turner, probably not new, and may or may not be reliable. You may hate it because it sucks like the movie Shark Attack II, or you may hate it just because it's average. Either way, it ain't your dream car!
And (as though it needed to be stated), your poor ass could never afford a head-turning, new powerhouse anymore than you could a classic muscle car. What do you do when the Bugattis, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Porsches, Lotuses, NSXs, Corvettes, Mustangs, and other hotrod babies you only wish you owned are out of your price range? Simple. Just close your eyes and imagine! Doesn’t sound appetizing? Well, complete these steps...
Wash and wax your car: If you have a total junker with mostly primer showing or if the paint is chipping too badly, just skip this step. It's not that important.
Next, head to your local auto parts store and pick up a bottle of New Car Smell. Yes, dumb-ass, they have something like that! It's wonderful stuff! Get it and use it. And while you're there, get two other things: a new gear-shift knob (if applicable) and a new steering wheel cover, one that feels cool to play with. If you have the money and want to go that extra mile and buy a new tale-pipe – the kind that makes your car sound louder and more intimidating – by all means, do it. You might even go all out and buy a spoiler to go above the trunk. It all depends on just how much physical sensation you need to begin the imaginary journey.
In my case, all I need is the steering wheel cover to register hitting my fingertips. Those tactile sensations say everything to me. It is the "window to my soul" if ever there was one. Yep, I just sit in my driveway, taking a few moments to squeeze the outside of the newly covered steering wheel. Then, closing my eyes, it's like I'm in a Ferrari or a Lotus (whichever vehicle I happen to be drooling about at the time).
Carefully pulling out of my driveway, my imagination geared up for the trip, I begin my drive. With my hands firmly on the wheel, I tap the accelerator. Feeling the car lurch forward, I pretend I have so much power at my disposal that I won't ever need to call upon it! Should a Mustang Cobra pull up next to me and challenge me to a race, I'll just wave my hand at the driver. He is to be made light of because he is no match for me!
In my mind, heads are turning as I drive by. Everywhere I go, people are checking me out! I'm riding around like I'm on a commercial, hearing a director as he tells me to smile for the camera.
The menacing look of my Viper is apparent. It's your problem if you can't see it, pal! The back end of my Saleen S7 is stupefying. The sleek lines and arrow-dynamic bodystyle that every kid wants I have! Eat your heart out and watch me drive by, drinking a slurpy from Sonic! I should stick out my tongue, for crying out loud, but I won't. I'll be modest and just go slow, gently feeling the steering wheel on my fingertips and listening to the engine sing as I take off from each traffic light. And when I've had enough, I'll come back home.
It's the imagination – the ability of the mind to be satisfied with merely wanting a thing in place of actually having it – that is what counts. And very often, wanting a thing is far better than actually having it.
And I can go further; imagination only needs prompts, and occasionally props, to help it “take off.” For me, the small ones will suffice. I don’t even need a car to own one! My model of the Peugot 405 isn't limited to a certain bodystyle, a certain model, or a certain color. It doesn't lack a spoiler if I don't want it to, and it has no set speed barrier. It is as fast as I want it to go. And I can hold it in my hand from the comfort of my own couch and win any race I enter.
In the absence of a perfect world, it is required that we create one of our own. That realm, tailor-made by us, is ours and ours alone. No one else can claim it, conquer it, sabotage it, or invade it. Great things happen there, wonderful things that turn us into children again.
Better is the woman of the mind than in real life. More powerful is the kick delivered in combat of the mind than in real life; the kick in real life can only break a knee, but a kick in the mind can level an entire building. In the mind, I have no achy feet. There, I can leap from mountain to mountain, like Samson in his stride. There, I can move like Agent Smith from the Matrix. And tell me this…why the hell do I want a car payment, high insurance, and bad gas mileage when I can drive my true "dream car"?
And the point is made: those who possess imagination possess more than those discontented agonizers who are always chasing a dream, but never quite able to actually catch it and enjoy it. To have contentment is to have everything! Therein lies the true power of satisfaction. Whereas anyone can want and drool, few there are who can want to want!
(JH)
nobody cares
ReplyDeleteI often imagine that I own everything I see and that everyone around me works for me.
ReplyDeleteYou're right - life's too short to spend it working for those privileges, when I can simply imagine them into existence.
BTW, you never thanked me for letting you drive my cars.