A St. Valentine's Day Fable

Once upon a time there was a man who fell deeply in love, not with a person, but with an inanimate object. He loved the object as dearly as he could ever love a person, and he pampered, and cared for the object with all his might.

That certainly sounds like a fable, but the reality is that men all over the world are guilty of having such love affairs with a variety of objects. There are those who love their fishing tackle; golf clubs; gardening tools; but I think that there are none so rabid about the objects of our love as car and motorcycle aficionados.

I am a member of the Jaguar Enthusiasts Club, a worldwide grouping of mostly, grown men, who go "ooh!" and "aah!" over the sight of a Jaguar model, especially if it is standing shiny and bright in the midday sun. Very occasionally I find myself admitting that our enthusiasm is over the top, but then I revert to form and go back to being a silly youngster about my ride.

In our club there are periodic meetings where we bring our much prized possessions to meet others of a like persuasion. We show our model off, and even if it is exactly like one hundred others there at the time, I don't think there is any jealousy. It's not like showing off our women, which we do as well, and we may even get a little envious on that subject, but with the cars we discuss problems and where to get parts, and even make deals to swap with one another. That is the cars, not the wives.

Why this should be something that interests predominently males is really quite beyond me. After all, women are free to buy Jaguars, and do so, but they just don't get the bug to swagger and show off something that anyone with the money can acquire. Women, however are smart enough to support their men in our infantile pursuit of pleasure of this sort. If the car is the other woman, at least she is one that the wife can control.

A reminder to all of my fellow Jaguar petrolheads that for St. Valentine's Day the order is, celebrate your wife first and your Jag takes second place. Now, repeat after me, "Wife first, Jag second!"  Bear that in mind and you should have a pleasent week. Get it wrong, and I wouldn't want to trade places with you.

Copyright (c) 2012   Eugene Carmichael