Okay, I'll admit it. I don't get the car thing.
That's abundantly clear from the vehicles I've owned in my life, starting with the bright blue Mazda station wagon I purchased in college, followed by the Suzuki Samurai I drove in Alaska and the ever-thrifty little Saturn SL1 I bought with cash after arriving in Southern California. (I was so cheap at the time I refused to spring for electric locks.)
The few miles I drive now get added to the 240,000 or so already on the odometer of my SUV, a hand-me-down from my husband, who does care about cars—at least more than I do.
A friend explained that the difference between hubby and me is that he was born in California, where part of the natives' birthright is understanding that ...