Being a teenage male consists entirely of two things: cars and sex. That's it. The whole teenage ride is a big quest to get the two of them, either separately or together. I know this to be a fact from close personal observation. I'm also a 17 year old male. I realized that the two of these things were tied together along time before I could begin to think about getting one of them. I knew that to be a happy hormonal guy I needed a car. I also knew that not just any car would do; it had to be cool. That was the hardest part of the process, determining what was a cool car. I thought that, like in fishing, if I had the right lure the fish would just jump into my boat. Take that any way you like it a cool car was the first and most integral part to my teenage life.

I think I spent five months looking for a car. Until the fourth month I didn't have any concrete ideas. One day while I was in a school bathroom listening to two teachers talk. A lot of thinking gets done when a man is relieving himself, what else can he do? Mr. Stilson was talking with Mr. Lincoln about how he needed a V-8 engine. To that Mr. Lincoln said that he had never owned a car with an eight cylinder engine, and that his first car was a 1955 MGTF. It hit me like a mad nun: I had to get a British car. Look at their history. James Bond drove a British car, and he was no stranger to the ladies. A more contemporary example is Austin Powers with his Jaguar XKE. I knew that a British car is what I needed right then. From that day forth I was a man on a mission to find an MG of my own.

I even did research with girls. I had printed out pictures and were showing them to girls asking if one of them, an MG, was cool. Then I would show them a picture of a nasty, ugly car and ask them if they would rather date a guy with the cool car or the nasty one. Tests came back positive, an MG was the car for me. I got the usual discouragement from my family. They would tell me that they're cold in the winter, they break down a lot, and when it rains the top would leak. That didn't bother me at all, if it was cold I'd wear a coat or if the girl got cold she could snuggle up to me. If it broke down I could amaze her with my incredible technical ability, and it would provide me with a perfect excuse to be late to where we were going. Everything seemed so perfect.

So it wasn't long before I had bought a 1975 MG Midget. I figured it to be the perfect car to "make a move in". It held the advantage of size. Since I was so close to the girl it wouldn't be a long transition from hand on the steering wheel to a hand on her leg. Everything seemed so perfect. I bought the car, towed it home--which should have been my first clue--and parked it in my garage. I was done I had a car. Any minute now chicks would be climbing in through the windows. That was one of my first mistakes. The car didn't run, and I soon found out that it needed to if my evil plan were to work. But at least I had a car.

I had the car. I didn't have a running car, but it was a cool piece of garage furniture. So there it sat for six months waiting for me. During those six months I learned a lot about it, ot the technical aspect so much, but what a car was. Since it didn't run, I had ample time to contemplate the deeper meanings of a car. It proved to be a platform for me. Even though I couldn't drive it I could still brag about it. That was my first lesson: people were jealous of my car and girls liked it. The next lesson was that cars take you places. Even if they don't run, a dormant car still needs things to sustain it. I have met more people because of that car than I think I ever have in my life. I soon learned the needs of it, and where to go to satisfy its needs. Next I learned that a car is like a bad girlfriend. Its hands were constantly in my wallet, it took up way too much of my free time, and it always needed something. But I learned to live with, and love it.

When it started to run, the playing field had changed completely. Now it wanted more things, but I was happier to give them to it. It was now my turn to want something in return. The whole six months of staying hidden in my garage was erased by one hour of driving with the top down. It gave me the "I'm sorry look" and I knew that I couldn't stay mad at it. Now my plan was complete. I had the car. It ran. I just needed to wait for the girls to come flying at me.

As much as I waited that never happened. A car may have power over a man, but its powers are useless against women or at least dulled. Sure there were a few cases of women yelling lewd comments about me out of their windows, but nothing too extreme. I was in shock. It was as though I had been searching for Shangri-La and all I found was a bleak valley. That wasn't discouragement enough for me. If one things doesn't stand out it's that I don't take a hint. I felt that since I had put up with the car for six months I was going to get everything out of it.

I have learned more about mechanical things, and life, because of that car than I would ever have hoped to otherwise. It has provided me with a means to get around, impress girls and guys alike, and something to talk to girl's fathers about when I need to change the subject. A car to a teenage guy is far more than that. It's part of his life it's a creature that they need to take care of. Men will look back and remember their first car better than their first girlfriend.