If you think this is just another anti-car blog, you have deeply misunderstood.
A few years back, an acquaintance of mine posted on social about a book called “How to Date Men When You Hate Men.” (She’s since passed, but that’s a story for another time… wanna guess how it happened?)
I haven’t read the book. But I’m guessing it’s about dating under the patriarchy—and maybe touching on femicide and intimate partner violence.
And how to reconcile that as a heterosexual woman.
You could probably it the “Man-Lover’s Paradox,” but that would be a stupid name.
As I write my weekly posts on this site, often deeply critical of the automotive industry and the prevalence of car culture and car dependance in our society… I have a confession to make.
(Good thing this is an anonymous blog.)
I love cars.
I have since I was a kid. I still regularly read Car & Driver and Motor Trend magazines. I even browse used-car listings, contemplating a Sunday Driver… often some obscure Japanese sports car that caught my eye as a teenager.
My plan is to buy a classic car for the family to enjoy, when I have the garage space. I appreciate unloved survivors from the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s.
I just kinda love cars.
Surprised? I get why, if you’ve read this blog. I have to reconcile the simple phrase: “How to date cars when you hate cars.”
Because I’m right about them. Today’s cars are overweight, overpowered, overpriced and inefficient.
And yesterday’s cars are carbon-spewing death traps.
And I know the world would be better with far fewer of them.
So why do I eyeball the ’91 Fox-body 5.0 convertible on my block with such lust?
Why do I secretly think the Cybertruck is kinda cool looking? (Don’t @ me, I still want it—and the guy who dreamed it—gone.)
Why do I read tests like 0-150-0 with the inquisitive interest of a political analyst?
It’s the car-lover’s paradox, good reader.
And it’s a tough one.
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