I knew at a very young age that something was not quite right. I could see that there was a difference between me and other guys my age. In my youth almost all of my friends liked a certain something that I didn't even care about. They would spend countless hours obsessing about it, talking about it, watching it, and even playing it. As I got older they would bet on it, argue about it, fantasize about it, make decisions based on it, purchase items because of it, and even change their life for it. What is this all powerful force I am referring to? Is it a super addictive drug? A hardcore addiction? Is it an extreme fetish? Some folks would think so. The influential corps that I am talking about is none other then sports. That's right, SPORTS!
I really think there is a sports gene and that I was born without it. While my classmates were playing flag football I was reading Popular Hot Rodding and drawing pictures of blown Chrysler Hemis. When the neighbor kids were outside playing baseball I was building models like the S'cool Bus and the Tijuana Taxi. When friends were watching the playoffs on TV, I was watching movies like American Graffiti, Two Lane Blacktop, and The Hollywood Knights. Some guys can rattle off batting averages or yards rushed for almost any given player. I knew engine cylinder firing orders, block codes, and spark plug gaps. My buddies wore jerseys and sweat shirts with their favorite team logo on them. I wore tee shirts with characters drawn by Ed "Big Daddy" Roth. Team jacket? Nope, NASCAR jacket. NFL, NBA, MLB, MLS follower? Nope, SCTA, NHRA, SCCA, NJBA follower. You see, for every sports reaction, there is a non-sports counter action. But my counter action goes much deeper.
The aforementioned gene completely missed the pool in my case. Not only did I not have any interest in sports, but also fishing, hunting, camping, et al. I have know other guys who liked the car stuff along with the sports and other junk, but I have yet to meet another male who feels the same way I do. I know that there are more of us out there, but we are a rare breed, often referred to in Latin as Exterius Ludis, or "without sports". Consider the following; as I am writing this the World Series is playing out on television. I could not tell you who is winning or for that matter, which teams are even playing! Ditto for the Super Bowl when it rolls around. NBA Finals? You guessed it, clueless. We even speak a different language. Consider these popular sport terms and what they mean to me:
Grand Slam - Breakfast at Dennys
Single - Without a girlfriend
Line Drive - Engine, transmission, and rearend
Home Run - Scoring with the girlfriend
Dribbling - Too much beer in my mouth
Double Dribble - Beer coming out of my mouth and nose
Traveling - Road trip!
Unnecessary Roughness - Crappy body work
False Start - You think the engine is going to start but it doesn't
Illegal Return - Returning a used auto part as a new one
Impeding Progress - Honey do list is preventing you from working on your project car
Technical Penalty - Sounds like a DMV fee to me!
So there you have it, a gear heads take on a very testosterone laden subject. Like Popeye said, "I yam what I yam" and there is no changing me. Motor oil will forever run through my veins and my memory is no where near full. There is plenty of room left on my hard drive for the next automotive adventure. Just think of all the stories yet to come. I don't know about you but I can't wait...