As a car nut, I have owned more cars than the average 24 year old, or even 60 year old for that matter. The more cars I buy, sell, fix, break, then fix again, the more I wonder if there is a deeper meaning to what draws me in or eventually brings me to sell and walk away. Working on cars is therapeutic for me, but I think owning certain cars and building a collection is more than just that. I think it is a way to express yourself, find peace in where you are, or at times even try to perceive yourself as somebody you are not.
Anybody who isn’t car obsessed will not understand this, and I am judging by the number of silver and white, copy and paste sedans I see on the highway this is likely 95% of people. However, if you are a car nut, maybe you are curious too.
When I thought about this earlier, the first thing that came to mind was one of the opening scenes in the movie “Fight Club”. In this scene, the narrator (played by Edward Norton) is talking about his obsession with nesting and filling his apartment with crap from the IKEA catalog. “What kind of dining set defines me as a person?” he wonders.
Buying and selling cars is like dating. You pick one up, use it for a while, but if it isn’t meant to be, the little flaws that irritate you will come out until you cannot stand them any longer. If it is meant to be, you will keep wearing your rose colored glasses, and every piece will feel perfect. The cars I love I still own; a Range Rover Classic, MGB, TR6, and BMW 2002. They just look and feel genuine and unapologetic. Their flaws don’t feel like problems, just part of the experience. Whenever I drive or work on them, my mind stops talking, and I don’t feel anything but content for the current moment.
I have never sold a car I truly loved. Every one of them revealed their annoyances in different amounts of time. Looking back, the progression of my daily drivers from Saab to Volvo to Audi to Volkswagen was driven mainly by what I felt I deserved at the time. I climbed the ladder of luxury and performance through the justification of getting a better job, making more money, so on and so forth, but perhaps this is why none of them stayed. I was trying to match a car with my resume but not my core. They were all nice and enjoyable in their own ways, but I was too busy thinking about leveling up to feel content for what I had in the moment.
On the collection side, there have been times when I have caught myself wrapped up in what other people liked instead of what I was drawn to myself. This resulted in a 1988 BMW 535i, and several cars that I looked at but chose not to drive home. At the time, I was still new to the Seattle area and car scene and subconsciously worried about fitting in. I wanted to be the guy that brought something unbelievable to a show or drive likely as a way to make friends, gain followers, or make money in a flip. Driving the 5 series was a particularly interesting experience. It had so many executive level gizmos and luxuries that driving it literally made you feel more important than you actually were. This is why I liked it for a while, but also I think why I sold it. After a while I just felt fake.
Looking at the cars I have kept, they all have two things in common. They are extremely raw, and full of imperfections. My Range Rover has been all over the West Coast at this point and is full of scratches, a saggy headliner, and only has one functioning speaker. The 2002 has a crunchy gearbox, rust spots and dents, and the TR6 a delaminating dash, leaky differential, and B+ level paint job. This could mean that I drive them harder than I normally would, but realistically I think these imperfections make them unique and full of character. Seeing them each in the parking lot makes me smile, and at times they feel like a friend instead of an item or trophy of hard work. Each one I bought not because I wanted to make money in a flip, or steal a crowd at a car show, but because they are what I genuinely wanted when I found them. They are the only cars I have owned that I can truly picture myself driving.
So, have I answered the question? Do I now know “What kind of dining set defines me as a person?”? I don’t think so in part because it will continue to change as do our core values. What I do know however is that focusing your attention on what other people like, and how you want to portray yourself is a waste of time, and those who know you best can see right through it. Ultimately the purchases and experiences that will make you happy come from being genuine and true to yourself. For me, this is driving around Seattle in a 1971 BMW 2002, 1990 Range Rover, and a 1976 Triumph TR6.
“Cars are the sculptures of our everyday lives” - Chris Bangle
