Get OFF the hood of my car, bitch!
Why is sports car sexiness the exclusive purview of men? I’m so sick of it. I just finished reading an article about a motorsport event at Goodwood, England, and for about the 500th time I’ve seen the love of beautiful cars compared to the love of beautiful women. Where does that leave us women who love beautiful cars? Admiring ourselves? Shit out of luck, that’s where.
I love sports cars, muscle cars, old trucks, even some monster trucks, and for my Pinterest board called CarLust, I am constantly searching for great images. (And men, don’t kid yourselves that Pinterest is for pussies. There are plenty of guys who have car boards.) The problem is this: half the glossy, colorful images I’d like to put on my board are ruined by some artificially enhanced young woman, thong jammed up her ass, getting fingerprints and boob smears all over a beautiful paintjob.
I understand this pleases and excites men. They like to combine their visual pleasures in one package. Why objectify just one thing when you can objectify two at the same time? Car culture is a male-dominated world.
How about photos of gorgeous cars with gorgeous men? Try Googling “hot men + cars,” “male models + cars,” and what do you get? Not much. I tried Pinterest and found one board named “Fast Cars and Hot Men.” There were lots of images of good looking men, and a few nice cars, but not the two together. It’s just an equation that doesn’t exist. Racy cars equals racy women. Period.
Sports cars are sexy. They are exciting. Yeah, I know the visceral schwing! of motorsports. Even without a penis, I know that. I like to drive cars, shift their gears, rub them down with wax. Gasoline? Slightly cracking leather? Hubba hubba! I’ve been lucky enough to own a few cars that left me limp (or should I say rigid?) with desire. I’ve stared at them in my garage, feeling like a 15-year-old boy who wakes up and finds supermodel Gisele Bundchen in his bed.
So, okay, what am I even asking for? What would be equality here? A picture of a young male hunk dry humping a Maserati? That would look sweet, but, you know, that’s not what I really want to see, because frankly, I’d rather see a picture of the hunk with all his clothes on, looking cute, kind, and somewhat accessible, driving his car like a real human being.
I don’t want fan-based equality at motorsports events, either. What the guys have, calibrated to please women? Do women really want to see the hottest boys from the local modeling agency strutting around in G-strings offering us power drink samples while we line up to have our pictures taken with them? Would our boyfriends and husbands laughingly indulge us as we gaped at the pecs and packages of these young gods? Probably some women would like it. Sure, there’s always the male-revue-loving sister who joyfully hollers and shoves $50 bills down some dude’s nut holder. But for many women, the cars and the racing competition would be sufficient without the beefcake parade.
Lots of women love cars. Some of us love them so much that we gamely tolerate the visual clutter of unrealistically gorgeous women that apparently adds value to automotive forums and events.
(I won’t even digress into the unhealthy body image this shit promotes: to young women who think they should look that way; to older women too old to, well, look that way anymore; to young men and geezers who now expect that level of hotness in their companions; and frankly, to the young models themselves, many of whom are probably starving to fit into those size 0 shorts while they spent $4,000 on a boob job instead of a semester at college, just so they could land this weekend gig at the racetrack.) Okay, sorry, that constituted a digression.
Back to Pinterest. Women and cars share a rich pictorial history. I’ve collected a whole bunch of images of retro chicks posing with cars, like the great Linda Vaughn as Miss Hurst Shifter, and just cute girls out for a day of mischief with their cars.
I’m not sure if I can pinpoint where the appeal deteriorates, but auto pinups from the past few decades make women look like sluts. For example, let’s just take my favorite car, the Porsche, which is unfortunately plagued with a host of clichés about male virility or lack thereof.
Here are some images. The first three come from reader thread on Pelican Parts, an online automotive parts supplier. This first image is a trifecta for me – great vintage attire, Porsche 356, nice black and white composition – an instant pin.
Here are some cute girls having fun with their Porsche, probably at the beach. They have some fast food on the roof. One of them appears to be in her underwear. It’s fun, sexy, probably something I would’ve done at their age. Pin it.
Here is a young woman fueling her Porsche. She appears to have lost her underpants. But, being a Porsche lover, I understand how this might happen. You are overcome with excitement about driving your car and simply forget to put all your clothes on before you go to the filling station. It’s kind of piggish but kind of funny, like some dirty old German men talked her into doing it for money, so I pin it to a board that I share with a couple of my girlfriends who understand exactly why I think this is funny.
Now this next young woman, well, she just appears to be having an uncomfortable seizure on the hood of a Porsche 996. This is where, as a woman, I say, “Gross!” Or, if I’m a man, I say, “Fuck Yeah!”
(image courtesy http://androidapp.lisisoft.com)
Okay, I might pin it to one of my boards, but just to ridicule it. We’ve gone from beautiful car=beautiful women to beautiful car=writhing slut.
Women are, for better or worse, more complicated than men in terms of sexual desire and visual stimulation. Men see women as the sum of their body parts. Women weave tangled webs of fantasy around our objects of desire.
Let’s test drive this idea. I look at a picture of vintage Porsche 964. I don’t think it could be improved by a nearly naked man lying down on it. In fact, I would be quite concerned about him denting the hood. I imagine taking the car out for a country drive. Just the sound of that air cooled engine is amazing. The downshift around corners. Then I start thinking about the exterior color.
I might even want to put Nordic hunk Alexander Skarsgard in the passenger seat. Or even in the driver’s seat, if I really like him. Then, I know! We could stop and have a romantic picnic with champagne and strawberries. There would be lots of romantic talking and kissing and maybe eventually sex. Or if you want to have a kinkier 50 Shades of Gray date, maybe we fetch some blindfolds and rope from the backseat and we tie each other up. But at no time do I want to look up from rummaging in the picnic basket for champagne or extra handcuffs and see poor Alex arranged like a piece of meat, his manhood throbbing next to the Porsche hood emblem. (Unless he was posing in an ironic way to mock his sex symbol status, of course.)
See how this goes? This is a whole silly fantasy, not just a bunch of body parts on a poster. I give up. Men and women are too different.
Here’s an actual photo of the actual Mr. Skarsgard with his actual Porsche, and actually, this is cuter to me than a glossy beefcake shot. At least, that’s my story until they start making calendars. In the meantime, this one’s going on my CarLust board.
I love the cars. I respect the cars. And I respect you, too, sir, far too much to let you make an idiot of yourself by asking you to stick your ass out just a little bit more, please, as you hover over my rear spoiler. Snap! Great shot, babe!