I am my cars; the cars are me.

After watching the film Senna I was thinking today about what is it about cars and driving? Why do I feel so strongly and passionately about my cars?  Why is it that a good drive can make me maniacally happy and if there's something wrong with one of my cars I can become moody and depressed?  I came to realize this: If I think of myself as my brain connected to my body through nerves; and that body sends me information about my world and I send it instructions that make me move and communicate with that world, then by extension  by the fact that my hand grips the wheel and gear leaver, my feet the pedals, my ass and back the seat; the car becomes a part of me; an extension of my body.  Just as my hand is connected to my wrist; there is a physical link between my hand and the wheel; which is connected to the suspension, to the tires and ultimately the road.  This connection is on a deep two way subconscious level; just like when I am walking I don't think "now I move this foot, and now this one" I don't consciously think "now I have to turn the wheel to turn, or now I have to press in the gas pedal to go faster"; it just happens.

That's why when something is running bad in my car I get so upset; because it's as if there is something wrong with me.  Through that connection I feel sick; if I try to go faster and all I get is a misfire it's as if I'm trying to walk and foot doesn't work.  I think that's why myself and so many car guys are so resistant to cars having all this computer stuff like drive by wire and electronic steering, because it numbs that connection, that extension of the body. In my Miata I can feel every pebble on the road; that feeling is transmitted through the tires, the suspension, the bushings, the chassis to my hands and my ass in the seat and to my brain just as if I was walking barefoot; the Miata is engineered that way, to be so communicative, and when driving it I feel light and precise, every thought I have is instantly converted into movement from the car.  Meanwhile the Benz communicates confidence.  It's soaks up the pebbles, it's always smooth but it's never numb; I feel solid and invincible.  It's why I hate driving cheap poorly engineered cars like my wife's Pontiac Sunfire.  The sensation I get back from it is that the suspension is hard and loose, the steering is imprecise as if I'm trying to walk while drunk.  The engine drones and vibrates like it (i.e. me) is struggling to move. The whole body rattles and shudders; it bruises my ego to drive that car because I end up feeling cheap and imprecise and loose.

In the same way my mania comes from having a body that can go fast, turn fast; when everything is working, with just a will I can unleash an orchestra of mechanical sound that propels me forward and takes me beyond the limits of my organic body.  It's quite something.  I really rue the day when I become too old to drive or because of the environment or whatever am forced to stop driving.  A car really is an incredible machine that takes us beyond ourselves.