Modern masculinity sometimes feels like a short checklist of preapproved likes and dislikes. As a man, I’m supposed to like bacon but dislike scented candles. I’m a man, therefore, I like football. Furthermore, as a man, I dislike musical theater.

I don’t know who determines what is manly and what is unmanly. Maybe the patriarchy is just an ancient man who sits in a crypt and makes declarations about gender norms: men take showers, not baths! I imagine he looks like the Knight at the end of Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade who guards the Holy Grail. All I know is these ideas are old and tired, like the Grail Knight.

I can be an asshole, that’s for sure. I go to therapy for a reason. But I do not like cars, used or brand-new, bargain or budget-buster. I do not like driving them or owning them.

This is an unmanly opinion but I think I’m just ahead of the curve. Once robots drive us everywhere, future generations will look back at our culture’s love of piloting crushable metal death boxes to and fro, very fast, with horror and fascination. I also predict that autonomous vehicles will become more utilitarian. They will cease to be the status-symbols they are now. Fifty years from now idiots will show off their status with expensive cyborg implants.

I know American men love cars. Once upon a time, the automobile was cutting edge technology and we rebuilt the whole world to make room for them. I can’t think of a more American image than a man driving down the open road. That’s what freedom looks like, I guess. Every car commercial tells this story: buy a car and drive to happiness.

I only like cars in movies. I am a huge fan of car chases, like The French Connection or Ronin. Many years ago I had trouble deciding if I wanted to move to L.A. from New York City and the neon-colored Ryan Gosling thriller Drive convinced me I should. In that movie, cars are sexy. They slice through the night like sideways lightning bolts. I loved Drive. You should stream it on Netflix if you haven’t seen it.^[1] I’m a little afraid to rewatch it because I remember it so vividly. It made driving in L.A. look cool and driving in L.A. is a daily fury road that is both boring and terrifying at the same time.

Anyway, most men like cars. It’s at the top of the male identity checklist. And the worst of us, apparently, love luxury cars. I have to admit I find it slightly disappointing that this is an actual scientific fact. I silently hope that all gender norms are just, like, advertising campaigns gone horribly wrong. You know, we’re hypnotized but on some level “acting like a man” is still a choice.

But it’s clear from this recent Finnish study that some men are so insecure they have no choice but to spend money on a car that they think shouts “I’m special!” That’s too pathetic for me to even ponder. Imagine having a hole inside you so large you can drive an Audi through it.

I like walking. If I could make going on nice strolls in the park super macho I would. That would be a tremendous legacy.

“Dude, you wanna fuckin’ walk hard to the fuckin’ carousel?”

“Hell yeah.”

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