Nobody, but nobody, enjoys messing about in cars
Issue 62 : Sept/Oct 2008
Why is it that we treat our sailboats like, well, like sailboats? We give them names. We think of them as having personalities and souls. We refer to them as feminine, calling them “she.” They’re often considered to be members of the family. We tend to hold on to our sailboats for a long time, selling and trading up infrequently. We can’t bear to part with them. They beckon to us from the marina or boatyard when we are at work or otherwise occupied away from the water’s edge. We miss them when we’re gone.
Many sailors will say they love their boats. They compare their relationships with their boats to the relationships they have with their partners (usually wives, but this isn’t a sexist thing; it’s just that there are more male sailors than female ones). They fondly remember when they first met and other significant, shared, first experiences. Sailors will invest hours in the care and maintenance of their pride and joys. Part of that effort is to keep our vessels seaworthy, to be sure, but there’s an aspect to “messing about in boats” that applies. Like Ratty, we just like being on them and near them.
It’s not like that with cars. Jerry and I recently had a rude awakening when our Pontiac Bonneville — that should have gone for another 100,000 miles — threw a rod and drove its last mile. It was not worth investing in a new engine. I was saddened because the exterior and interior were still in great shape, but I didn’t feel as if we were losing a member of our family. As I prepared myself mentally for the purchase of a replacement, it occurred to me that a car — unlike a sailboat — is an inanimate object.
No vinyl graphics
Jerry and I give our cars informal names and I imagine others may do this also. But not one of us buys vinyl name graphics for the back bumpers. (I wish people would do that; it would make driving on the highway a whole lot more interesting!) We don’t think of our cars as having personalities. Every vehicle I have ever owned has been referred to as “it,” although Jerry refers to his huge Dodge truck as a female. He insists on this for reasons that escape me. It’s a three-quarter-ton truck, for goodness’ sake!
While Jerry and I hang onto vehicles until the wheels fall off or a rod is thrown, most people tend to keep cars for only a few years. Then they sell them, buy replacement vehicles, and don’t look back. There’s no bonding between owner and vehicle that I can detect. And if a car’s in the shop or not available for some reason, most of us miss it only due to the inconvenience of not having it. We don’t miss our automobiles with the heartfelt longing that we have for our sailboats.
We take our cars for granted and are frustrated when something mechanical fails. While we generally make sure that our cars receive regular maintenance at our hands or the hands of others, we don’t toil over them as we do for our boats, just for the sake of keeping them shipshape. In fact, that word is indicative of the difference between our attitudes about boats and cars: shipshape is a term that has no equivalent when it comes to automobiles.
In the end we bought a new (used) car and we’re pleased. It was a move up from the Bonneville. Once the hassle and paper chase ended, it has been a change for the better. One of the things that we’ll do often with this car is drive to our boat . . . because we miss Mystic when we have to be away from her.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
