My Personal Battle with Cars, Girls and Depression

"RealPontiacFakePontiac" (realpontiacfakepontiac) 07/25/2015 at 11:09 • Filed to: None

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This isn’t the first time.

My lust for cars has caused problems between girlfriends and myself before. The purchase of my 1972 Le Mans was a death knell. The way that I drove my 2010 Vibe GT showed a lack of respect for her white knuckles, her feet stomping the foot well. The 1992 Thunderbird Super Coupe was a gamble and I lost. I suddenly needed her to take me to work again.

A 1980 Porsche 911 Turbo coming into view elicits a primal, visceral caveman-like noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan. Imagine a Neanderthal receiving one hell of a sexual favor. When my best friend purchased a track day event for me in a Ferrari F430, I became that horizontal, arms behind his head Neanderthal the entire car ride to the airfield. I could barely contain my excitement, a real kid with a real candy coated super car. I could touch it, would they notice if I tasted it?

These were all problems. These all caused arguments. Why did I spend $3,000 on an old car that I could just barely afford? Why do I drive fast, brake a little late and take corners hard? Why did I buy a piece of junk that broke down two months later? Why am I more excited about seeing an old beetle with a giant wing than a girl in lingerie, or nude? Why was driving a car that I’ll never afford a better gift than a camera that I can pursue my other passions with? Why cars? Why driving? Why dirt, metal, rubber, gasoline and glass? Why Mobil 1 and not Astroglide?

I am not an excitable person. I am not passionate, loud, joyful, or outwardly reactionary. When I go to concerts to see my favorite bands, I barely move to the music. When I spend eight hours straight playing a game, I in no way look as though I enjoy it. When I see one of those heart stopping gorgeous girls, those unicorns of human breeding, I will look a little but that’s it.

Girls like that may be the closest thing to an Alfa Romeo Tipo 33 Stradale in the flesh, but they will never have the same ethereal curves, the same metal handwork bruised out with hammers, the same rear end. Yes the Alfa’s, Porsche’s and Ferrari’s will never hold my hand at dinner, play games with me through the night or get drunk with me, but they give me a different rush. They give me a feeling like my heart skipping a beat over metalwork, exhaust popping and clearing my head like a bomb and my lungs recessing deeper into my chest, pulling in to make room for my heart bursting over too many skipped pulses. Is my timing off?

My past girlfriends have never understood any of this. An ex-girlfriend and I were driving to the grocery store one day when we passed an old 911 Turbo. I was driving so I slowed down, let the blood rush to her knuckles and my pants, screamed out “oh my fucking god ” and turned my head until I needed to see the road in front of me. Then I used my mirrors. Later that night I opened my bedroom door to find the girl in brilliantly fitting lingerie with fabric missing from all of the right places. I smiled, said nothing and climbed in. Where was the reaction, the passion, where was the “ oh my fucking god”?

I don’t know and I certainly didn’t know while trying to defend myself. I am a highly sexual person but I don’t know how to express that without, you know, doing the deed . I love music, games, photography. I don’t know how to express my love for them without taking part, but cars? Just looking at them gets me excited and seeing them in person gets me going. Climax is achieved when behind the wheel and when the flirtation of warming up the rubber and fluids is over.

I disconnect easily. People can mean everything one day and rather literally nothing the next. I can be cold like that. People hurt and change and require my attention and care, often when I don’t want to give it to them. That sounds similar to cars, but they can wait. They don’t require it right now , unless you’re on the side of the highway or broken down on a track day. But in those moments, you have the excitement of necessity, of places to go people to see, laps to finish. When people come to me, I’m usually halfway through a depressive stupor, barely struggling to feed myself more than 400 calories a day and now they need me? My Le Mans has never done that to me and it never will. If I am driving it, it is on my terms. I’m not interrupting my recovery or mood swings to drive the car, I’m not pulling myself out of bed to fix problems that I genuinely don’t care about because I care about all of its problems and they can wait . They are not immediate and I am selfish, I’m sorry, but sometimes I would rather spend $3,000 on an old car than save it, or go wide eyed for a car and dead eyed for everything else, or spend entire months completely ignoring my cars. I can get away with it, with them.

What has driven me to be the way that I am is so often the actions of other people reacting to my long periods of anti-social behavior and depression. Or am I depressed because of their actions and my sadness is the reaction?

Cars don’t make me think like this. They have manuals, diagrams. Sure, they may be insanely confusing and complicated if you’re working on vacuum and electrical systems, but it is all laid out . There may be gremlins to chase down and solve, but they’re easier to manage than a drug addiction or a child. I can look at datasheets for my vehicle and know something rather factually. There are no unanswerable variables like: how are you feeling? What are you doing? What are your goals, hopes, dreams, loves, hates, your emotions? How do you feel when you wake up, when you go to sleep? Why did your dad commit suicide? Why didn’t he leave you the Le Mans? Can you stay at your job until you retire? Can you for the next three months?

I can’t handle all of that, but I can handle my power steering going out. I can handle a repaint but I can’t handle the scars on my skin. I can handle a bushing wearing out, but I can’t handle my torn meniscus. I can handle an engine swap but I can’t handle a heart attack. I can handle an achingly gorgeous vehicle, but girls like that just make my heart sink. I can have as many cars as I can afford, but I can pretty much only have one girlfriend.

Cars just get a better reaction out of me when most people don’t get anything at all. There is no reason for me to ever detach from cars and so my love for them just grows and grows.

dogisbadob > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 11:23

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nice writeup

davedave1111 > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 11:26

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Interesting, I find it’s the other way around. I struggle to deal with fixing things while I’m depressed, whereas people - the right people - are what brings me out of it.

Maybe it’s just that your friends suck ;)

One point, though:

“am I depressed because of their actions”

No. By definition. You’re depressed because you’re ill. It’s important to remember that your feelings, your decisions, aren’t going to be particularly rational. It’s not that you can’t have fun, but that you don’t think you can, or don’t want to; that turns into a vicious spiral downwards, because having no fun isn’t going to help you stop being ill. It helps a lot - at least for me - to have people around who’ll dismiss your bullshit and tell you ‘shut up and come to the pub’ or whatever.

Oh, by the way, a really nice piece of writing above. You have a very similar style to someone whose writing I rate very highly:

http://oppositelock.kinja.com/i-have-decided…

RealPontiacFakePontiac > davedave1111 07/25/2015 at 11:40

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Thanks very much for your response and advice. I have some of the best and most supportive friends. Well, in ways. At one point in my life I had a low wage dead end job and I couldn’t afford to pay most of my bills, like rent and utilities. My best friend paid for all of them for over a year . But then, one night he and I will be hanging out, talking, maybe having a few drinks and I will be telling him about my problems, my complete lack of feeling. He will offer advice, listen, tell me of his own difficulties. Then next week sometime, I’ll come home from work looking particularly devastated for absolutely no reason and he will ask, “what’s wrong?”. I say, “the same as last week” and always he is surprised. It aggravates me. I don’t know what to do with my friends because none of them really grasp it all, but how can I expect them to when I don’t?

Anyways- I would also like to thank you for your compliment on my writing. I will read through that article shortly; I am at work right now and must not devote too much of my time to Kinja this morning.

RealPontiacFakePontiac > dogisbadob 07/25/2015 at 11:40

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Thanks, man. I appreciate it.

AM3R shamefully returns > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 11:59

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Solid write up.. Enjoyed reading it.

RealPontiacFakePontiac > AM3R shamefully returns 07/25/2015 at 12:03

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Thanks very much, AM3r.

Steve in Manhattan > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 13:00

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I have dealt with most of these things, and I’m older than you, so listen up.

1) drive like a knucklehead on the track, drive like an AARP member on the street - your next girlfriend and your insurance company will thank you, and the police won’t notice you. Sure I don’t drive a lot anymore - live in the city - but I haven’t been pulled over since 2000.

2) get your depression treated. One pill a day keeps me from throttling people that upset me or are too stupid to live, and I haven’t had a major panic attack since 2006. There are dozens of them - one will be right for you. And don’t hesitate to talk to a therapist. It helps.

3) cars: pick a lane and stay in it. Put your money - sparingly - into one vehicle that does what you need it to do. You should be driving something that ticks all the boxes for you instead of getting involved for one reason with one car and another reason with the next.

Same thing applies to women, come to think of it. I’ve been in my relationship nearly 11 years, so this stuff does work.

CaptDale - is secretly British > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 13:09

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Wow, this is an amazing write up. It also makes me realize I do that with cars too. Mind if I use this to explain to my boy friend why I get giddy when a Cobra starts up, but not when he has sexy undies on?

RealPontiacFakePontiac > CaptDale - is secretly British 07/25/2015 at 13:23

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Not at all, CaptDale. Feel free to share it to your boyfriend, I hope that it will help him understand things and hopefully solve some (possible) issues that you two might deal with.

I wish you the best of luck!

CaptDale - is secretly British > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 13:27

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Thank you! And I hope that you find the right path to happiness in your life. I know things can get really rough. But remember there is always a bolt to tighten and oil to change if it gets you out of bed and possibly happy for the day.

RealPontiacFakePontiac > CaptDale - is secretly British 07/25/2015 at 13:33

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Very true. Happiness, or anything close to it has always been the most fleeting and fragile of things. A rotary boosted to 40 PSI.

I try to stay active, that seems to help the most. It just takes a lot of convincing and self-discipline, which has never been my strong point.

CaptDale - is secretly British > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 13:37

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Science says nothing is faster than light, which a rotor @40 psi would be more fleeting, thus its impossible to boost that high ;)

Yeah, self discipline is something I think most people are bad at, I certainly am.

RealPontiacFakePontiac > Steve in Manhattan 07/25/2015 at 13:44

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I have definitely calmed down my road going driving habits in the past few years. I am much more civilized, though I never drove too much like an asshole, but enough to make her nervous at times.

I keep wavering on pills, I have been for years. I should just do it, because I clearly am not able to do this by myself, no matter how much I keep trying.

I have two vehicles right now, the Vibe and the Le Mans. The past month I have been struggling not to scratch the terrible itch of “maybe i should buy a Boxter...” I have been keeping it in control, though, and saving much more of my money until I can truly for once, do something comfortably.

Congratulations on being with your lady for almost 11 years! That’s amazing, to me. I made it to 5 once, then I horrifically fucked it all up. I have been getting better at these things, but it is slow work.

Thank you for your advice and knowledge, Steve. I greatly appreciate it.

Steve in Manhattan > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/25/2015 at 15:36

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If I needed a car, the Boxster would be my choice, but I’d probably end up with a C70 wagon, because I’m built that way.

Yeah, the lid is on tight after years of therapy, experimenting with dosages, and mild agoraphobia and panic attacks. If someone every gets the lid off, that would be a problem. But I think I’m safe.

davedave1111 > RealPontiacFakePontiac 07/26/2015 at 06:53

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“how can I expect them to when I don’t?”

Exactly. You have to come to terms with it yourself first. It’s a bit weird, because if you had a broken leg or some such obvious physical injury no-one would have any trouble understanding or accepting it - least of all you. When it’s something like depression, though, sufferers tend to minimise or belittle the problem rather than accepting the limitations it may bring (either short term or long term).

“I would also like to thank you for your compliment on my writing.”

You did realise the article I linked was one of mine? ;)

RealPontiacFakePontiac > davedave1111 07/26/2015 at 14:03

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Yes, of course. But you compared my own to yours and said that it is a nice piece of writing.

I absolutely tend to belittle my issues. They mean nothing, are nothing. In reality of course, they are most things.