When you boys go to the races you have surely noticed a lot of old men, who did their racing long ago, keep showing up. Sixties, seventies, eighties, and they still dig it. The plain fact is that many of us fellas retain most all of our same interests from age 14 until they carry us out feet-first. We don't grow up . . . isn't it wonderful??!!!
Too bad girls aren't like that; they become women, want that ring, want babies, want big houses in nice neighborhoods, tasteful furniture, bric-a-brac, bathroom and kitchen remodeled every eight years, yadda yadda yadda. All that stuff that never entered your mind at fourteen and never would have at all until you had to go shopping for that ring. Given OUR preferences, probably most gearheads could live happily ever after with no more than a crappy little batchelor pad . . .
. . . upstairs from a huge, fully-I-SAY-HUGE-I-SAY-FULLY-EQUIPPED SHOP (lathe, mill, MIG/TIG, flow bench, dyno (got that, Your Own DYNO!!!), and the world's biggest rollaway, etc., etc., . . . and WITH heated indoor parking space for bikes, cars, boats, an airplane or two, and shelves and shelves of boxes of parts.
Am I right? Because it sure was and is true for me!!
To illustrate, long ago when I was young and handsome and very fit (ice hockey), and racing outboards, I was renting a good-sized house in a middle-class suburb. The interior hadn't been painted in some years, the kitchen was probably unfashionably out of date, and my bedroom was small, but, BUT it had a full basement that I could devote entirely to my shop. I sub-rented the extra bedrooms to other young bachelors, so I had the house cheap and they kept an eye on my stuff when I was off at the races . . . Ideal!!
So I acquired this new girlfriend. After a few dates, she showed up at the house for a third time. The living room, hardly used except for the occasional party, had old discolored curtains, a worn carpet, and "batchelor-grade" furniture, i.e. threadbare and ugly free hand-me-downs, albeit comfortable enough and reasonably clean. And leaning against the walls were four outboard hydros (they store best when leaned up on their sides). This young lady having silently cast a critical eye on the place on previous visits, said, "Why do you have to have FOUR boats?? And why do they have to be in the house? You could sell a couple of them, and I'll help you choose some decent furniture and we can decorate and paint . . . .
She didn't get it AT ALL!!!!! Don't know what happened to her after that, LOL.
Does this ring any bells with you guys? Given these two utterly different wishes of women and of men, who almost always gets their life wish? Not us! Not gearheads and rodders and racers!
How does this relate? Just because it's heart-warming for an old man to remember fun-loving hot young gals before they get wrapped up in turning young men who just want to have fun into responsible adults . . . and THEY, the women, get to define "responsible."
Bring on more of the girls who just want to have fun. At least I can look and remember.
The transmission, yeah; my point is that given the choice between buying a new couch and say a new set of Lectrons . . . you see what I mean? But we have ceded the power to women.
When high school boys ate lunch in the cafeteria at school, in my day anyway, we talked about the cool cars we wanted, about bikes, about drag racing and boat racing and such. Or about trying to find a girl with a great bod and who was, uhm, open to suggestion?, after she had spent a day with us at the drags. We NEVER talked about getting married, buying houses, having our wives spend our paychecks on tasteful furniture and bric-a-brac, nor about spending whatever was left on day-care and braces and ballet lessons and all of that. What were the girls talking about then? I have no clue.
The way it worked out is that by the time boys become men and get old enough and finally have good enough jobs that they can start living their boyhood dreams, the girls with the bods have become women. Women whom we allow to define RESPONSIBILITY as marriage/house/kids. We allow them to condemn long-term batchelors who choose motor-racing, giant rollaways, and a series of short-term girlfriends, as being "Peter Pans" who refuse to "grow up," again by their definition. Our entire society including many men, most of whom bought into all this without ever having thought it out, goes along in condemning "Peter Pan" batchelors as socially-retarded fellows who won't accept "responsibility." Well, screw 'em.
From the conversations I've overheard or taken part in over the years, it seems to me that most men have this small misogynistic streak, and for sure most women have some reservations about men in general. And it's not unhealthy. Especially not if it keeps a fella from falling in love and buying a gal a leash to put around his neck . . . just because she has a fine little butt.
My vote for the all-time best builder of hydroplanes, outboards, inboards, and unlimited, is Ed Karelsen of Seattle, now retired. Forty-five years ago he gave me this piece of advice:
"Never let your pecker get the better of your brain."
Jimmy Soul, "If you want to be happy," number one on rock and roll top-forty radio in 1963 (the year portrayed very well in the movie American Graffitti, and one year before American junior high girls started screaming for the Beatles and the other Brits who killed REAL rock and roll forever):
"if you want to be happy for the rest of your life,
never make a pretty woman your wife.
So from my personal point of view,
get an ugly girl to marry you."
Well, maybe. But 400 lbs? That's torque, not horsepower, right??
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