Reading about this nutty guy who has sex with cars, reminded me that many years ago I wrote a news-related humor column about a fellow who wanted to marry his car. So I explored the deep recesses of my laptop, looking for a 1999 column that I wrote when I was a humor columnist for TheCarConnection. And voila! I dug it up, got rid of all the ancient WordPerfect coding, and am posting it here:
A High-Test Case
By
Madeleine Begun Kane
My husband Mark swears that he’s never proposed to an automobile. The same can’t be said for Buster Mitchell of Knoxville, Tennessee who, according to an AP Wire story, tried to get a license to marry his car. Mr. Mitchell’s efforts raise the following questions:
1. Is he nuts?
2. Those must be some reclining seats; and
3. Is he nuts?
I also have to ask: When somebody says, “You may now kiss the bride,” which part does he … um … never mind.
According to Mark, I’ve left out the most important question of all: “What kind of car?” Okay — if you really must know — it’s a 1996 Mustang GT.
When I first heard about Mr. Mitchell’s quest, I assumed there must be a terrible shortage of women in Knoxville. But that’s not the case. At least it’s not the would-be groom’s particular problem. Mr. Mitchell claims to be on the rebound from an ill-fated romance with a human female. Jilted by his former girlfriend, he apparently figures that marrying a car beats scouting singles bars.
That’s one wedding I’d sure like to attend, if only to witness the happy couple’s first dance. (Although I’m not sure what you buy a bride who already has bucket seats.)
Alas, that wedding probably won’t take place. Why not? Because stick-in-the-mud civil servants looked askance at some salient details about the bride:
Birthplace: “Detroit”
Bride’s Father: “Henry Ford”
Bride’s Blood Type: “10-W-40″
Much to Mr. Mitchell’s chagrin, they ruled you must be a male and female Homo sapiens couple to wed. Spoil sports!
Mr. Mitchell’s thus far thwarted efforts — he says he’ll try again — shouldn’t surprise us. After all, men do tend to be oddly obsessed by cars. I’ve caught my husband Mark staring at sexy sports models more often than I’ve caught him leering at sexy model models.
We’ll be strolling down the street and in the nanosecond it takes me to check out a window display, he’ll vanish. After ten minutes of searching, I’ll find him lusting after a $60,000.00 sports car almost large enough to comfortably sit one and a half people.
“What kind of mileage do you get?” I’ll hear him ask the owner. As if people who buy cars like that place gas mileage on their list of top concerns.
I’ll drag him away, just as he’s saying “I’d buy one myself, but the little wife won’t let me.” The very thought of the two of us speeding off in a pricey sports car leaves me laughing too hard to yell at him for calling me a “little wife.” Besides, I’m both little and his wife, which does weaken my case.
After experiences like that, I can almost understand Mr. Mitchell’s automobile infatuation. Still, I can’t help thinking he’d be better off with a female of the human kind. Surely there’s a woman somewhere who’s right for him — maybe even one of you.
Think about it: Wouldn’t you women like to marry someone as determined and passionate as Buster Mitchell? Most important, do you think you’re any match for a Mustang? If you do, hurry up or down to Knoxville, Tennessee.
And don’t forget your lasso.
Copyright 1999 Madeleine Begun Kane, 1st published in TheCarConnection.com
