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I have a few important men in my life that are all very different. In an effort to size them up, I have utilized the relationships that each of them has with automobiles in order to understand them a little better.

My own father has ever been very outdoorsy, which fit him perfectly. He worked as a life scientist, but is retired now. Pick up a fossil here; chipping a rock there, that’s my daddy. He never managed to grow any fondness for machinery. He was brought up by his parents to act like a gentleman, but engines and geartrains seemed to dredge up the worst in him. I have early memories of him cussing the Industrial Age as he was bent over an engine.

My father would always change the tires on our VW camper, but I never saw him fawning over aftermarket center caps or grille work. While he would occasionally dab some Rust-o-leum onto rusted places on the van or put water in the radiator, you would never see him take a Q-tip to the dashboard knobs or scrub the headlamps with a toothbrush.

On the other hand, my father-in-law is unquestionably a car man. He can tell you the make, model and year of every vehicle that’s travelled down the Pennsylvania turnpike. His ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon would be checking out a 1962 Chevrolet at a local Antique Club Car Show or scrubbing his own whitewalls.

He graduated speedily from a teething ring to a pitchfork and pliers while growing up in a rural area of northern Pennsylvania. Learning all about animal farming and the ABCs of automobile mechanics was expected of young farm boys. His interest in things with gadgets, wheels, and engines seemed to stick even though any fondness for animals did not. He made the choice to leave the farm and go to college and he never looked back.

My hubby is a teacher, just like his father and my father, but that is where their similarities end. He doesn’t meticulously clean his cars, collect rocks, or go camping. He likes to spend Saturdays enjoy coffee at a local Starbuck, marking papers, and catching up with friends on Facebook.

He keeps his car full of petrol, but would probably use his Enkei center caps for paper weights instead of using them to floss his ride. No offense to hard working wheel center caps. He makes it a point to vacuum his car once in a while and doesn’t mind driving around with “Wash me!” on the back window indefinitely.

Our daughter’s boyfriend is just like my father in law, but a bit more juiced. He got a high performance exhaust kit as a gift last month and has been excited ever since beyond his exhaust growls deeply. You can see that our daughter is in the throes of love when you listen to her talk about how you can hear him approaching from a mile away.

There’s not doubt that the relationships that men have with their cars can be complicated. On occasion, the car can be a expression of a man’s maleness, while other men act as if their vehicles were a foe that are a nuisance to be conquered or at the very least, endured.

Some name their cars, and others blaspheme them. Some handle their vehicles with TLC, while others cop bragging rights because their car or truck is beat up or has the most mileage. Car stories are exchanged over beers, like war stories used to be told around a campfire.

Why else is the auto industry able to sell billions of dollars of chrome, rims, seat covers, backup detectors, window tinting, fancy headlights, dashboard accessories and aftermarket center caps, tailpipes, hoods, automobile alarms and decals?

Whether the wheels in the drive are fodder for cursing or cooing, I think there’s some inevitable mechanical mojo going on – Kind of like to “If you build it, he will come.”