You are what your Wheels are . . .

Show me your Bike or Car, I’ll tell you who you are . . . Possibly sums up the gist of my views in one line.
I am a strong believer that a man's archetype, are the classifications of his Cars and Bikes. This is a reflection of his true self, for he is actually living out who he wants to be, through his vehicles.

A skinny nerdy wimp may want to be a Macho six packed brute. He knows that the Gym is the longer route. Solution? Grab that monster 1000 CC R1 or a Cherokee or that hunky Hummer H2, rip down the road . . .

You think clothes make the man? Think again. Engines speak louder than words, and what you drive says more about you than your costliest 3 piece Armani or the Salvador TuxIcon ever could. The apparel may, at best, get you a second look at a Black Tie Dinner, but get your hands on that drooling Limo, a Maybach if you can afford one, and see the way the world treats a man on a different set of wheels. . . .

So, what is the relationship between Men and Wheels?

I strongly think, it all starts with birth. Whether you are an American, a European, an African or an Asian each one would have noticed that the toys that their children prefer, are dramatically different based on their gender and enigmatically common when it comes to their preferences. Across the race, color or creed, boys go for anything with wheels, while the girls grab those dolls. I do not buy the age old argument that the societal influences of Parents & peers decide the choice of toys in kids. Children in famine stricken parts of Africa, when approached by the volunteers of UN, behaved exactly the same way as other kids around the globe, when it came to preferences of toys. Where was the societal pressure here, when the next morsel of food was an enigma? This is much more than parenting and peer pressure, this, in my view, is embedded into the DNA of the genders.

There is a direct relationship between Men and their wheels. And this is why: The euphoric levels of a man are defined by factors, which revolve around the awesome mass of power on wheels. Velocity here equals Virility, Pedal to Metal (or twist of the throttle) is orgasmic and the musky odor of burning rubber is nearly as thick as the cologne marinade. A man on a saddle or behind the wheel is a man possessed. He is in a world and a Zone of his own. A soft spoken, timid, henpecked middle age man transforms into an aggressive, charged rider, the minute he gets onto a VRod or behind the wheel of GTX or a 911. He will give his right hand to gain prime space on the highway and his need for speed would put  Schumi’s aspirations to shame. Wheel spinning on standing starts, screeching around hair pin bends on ghat sections, with sheer vertical cliff drops just inches off the rear wheel, the thrill and danger of living on the edge, allows him to live a dimension of his aspirational life, which is otherwise curtailed by more mundane and earthly prerogatives.

Finally, a bike or a car is an extension of a man’s life. After all It goes anywhere you want, never expects a phone call, or commitment, lets you dress as you please and accepts you in, gleefully roaring to life even if you are sloshed drunk. The amazing feeling of the growl of the engine, is enough to send your heart racing and just the thought of the raw power is something money can’t buy,

Testosterossa, may well be the name of the next brut from the Lamborghini stable . . . .

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