In an instant I flashed back to high school when I was priveleged to drive, for a brief time, the king of rugged and manly cars - the CJ-7. Oh sure, it only got about 5 miles to the gallon, I almost needed a boost to get in, there were rust spots all over the floor, and it perpetually smelled like gas; BUT it was the coolest! It even almost won me "best car" in my senior yearbook (I lost to a vintage VW minibus).
Really, it was the coolest.
Even better, my friend Mike who drove a [pansy] Jeep Wrangler told me that I could now be let into the secret club of Jeep drivers, which was celebrated by a two fingered wave - the Jeep Wave (in my case, the Southern version). At first I was skeptical. Being susceptible to pranks as I am, I thought he was mocking me. He scoffed and told me that other Jeep drivers probably thought I was a snob, so I paid attention and noticed that it was true! I was getting the "we're too cool to wave a real wave, so we'll just throw out a couple of fingers to acknowledge that you are also cool" wave from every other jeep I passed.
This simple wave gave me a sense of being part of something bigger than myself; the Brotherhood of Awesome Vehicles.
When the CJ-7 finally gave up the ghost (after a passenger put his foot through the floor), gone was my membership ticket to the club. Much as I love my Passat - much as I love being able to drive faster than 50 mph, and not having to hike my skirt up to my thighs to climb in after church, or having to use my foot to turn on the high beams at night - it sadly is nowhere near awesome enough to usher me back into the fold.
It's almost enough to make me want to don only leather, get some tattoos, grow a beard, and climb on a hog. But only if I can look this cool while doing it:
Hahaha, biker "chick." But seriously, someone call the ASPCA.
