Motoring journalism. It’s a barrel o’ laughs. The constant stream of press releases into my inbox includes tyre launches, Dragons Den pitches about tyres, invitations to events about… tyres.
And yet, with Valentine’s Day upon us, I was sent a few emails that caught my eye. Oddly enough I wasn’t allowed to turn them into a news’er for the website, but couldn’t resist exploring these modern fairytales.
First news bulletin for you – according to Buyacar.co.uk, us millenials don’t want a shag in the back of a Saxo. We don’t wanna hook up in our hatchbacks. We don’t care about the junk in the trunk. Just 43% of people under 34 recall their first encounter in their motor.
But Mum and Dad, Granny and Grandpa, the era of the original Mini and the sexy Ford Cortina, knew what banging in a banger was all about.
Forget the sat-nav that can track down the most popular nearby dogging sites. Who needs vibrating, massaging headrests and adjustable mood lighting? The Valentine’s Special press release says “the signs are that not even Bluetooth music connectivity and heated seats can set the mood quite as well as and FM radio/cassette and a pop-up sunroof once did.”
The other pull quote has got to be;
“The connection between older cars, love and romance is more often celebrated in popular songs about older cars than their modern counterparts. Think Mustang Sally and Little Red Corvette.
It’s harder to imagine singers waxing lyrical about Kia Sorento Karen or Tom Robinson writing Blue Hyundai i40 as a follow up to Grey Cortina.”
But another email from Honda shows off that out of 2,000 British adults, 24% of those under 25 believe “a nice car is more important than a good sense of humour, manners or intelligence when it comes to a potential date.” JESUS CHRIST GUYS. COME THE FUCK ON. Emily Davison didn’t jump in front of a horse so we can jump in front of Tinder guy’s 2015 PCP’d Mercedes.
HALF of women want men to pick them up on a first date, too, with one in ten saying they wouldn’t give a second date if the car was dirty. McLaren have even unveiled a one-of-a-kind Vermillion red painted 570S Spider. Because no one wants the “I Love You” stuffed bear form Moonpig.
But, I hate to break it to you, as much as your tediously linked Press Releases would have us believe, modern dating has nothing to do with the motorcar.
Firstly there’s the fact that the ownership of motor vehicles for persons under 25 is decreasing year on year – insurance bills of several GRAND and petrol at £1.20 a litre seem to go some way to explaining this. And with no car, it’s hard to get the same level of intimacy in the back of an Uber, I can tell you that much. If you’re really part of the quarter holding out for a guy with an expensive car to overcompensate for his inadequate cock, you’ll be waiting a long time.
Next, once you’re feeling frisky in your new beau’s immaculately clean modern missionary mobile, where do you do it? You can’t go dogging at a dogging spot because – well, everyone saw the Channel 4 documentary, and no one wants to do that. You can’t go dogging in a layby because the police will find you. You can’t go dogging in a carpark because drunken youths will find you. You can’t go dogging in London because you don’t have the right parking permit and you can’t go dogging in suburbia because the Pay and Display machines don’t take the new pound coin.
Emily Davison didn’t jump in front of a horse so we can jump in front of Tinder guy’s 2015 PCP’d Mercedes.
Then at 18, you up and leave home and head to uni – a breeding ground for STIs and sexual partners. You don’t need to sneak into the back of your car on your way to work to get your kicks. Why go to the inconvenience of making yourself bankrupt and investing in your very own pussy wagon when you can just do it in the bathroom of the club, a la Joey?
And I mean come on, regardless of the connotations and the kink and whatever, it’s inconvenient for everyone. It’s hot for the first few minutes. Then it descends into friction burn and cramp and freezing anytime there are passing headlights. Unless you’re in a Rolls Royce, the dream is not there – although maybe I can smuggle one out of the office carpark one night… (Joking. Totally joking. I have nowhere to park a Rolls Royce.)
Don’t blame us millenials for not fucking in Fiestas. This isn’t our fault. Just another changing and unfair circumstance that us 21st-century, Labour-voting Brexit-objecting, broke, failing and sex-starved Generation X are blessed with.
YEAH MOTORING JOURNALISM BITCHES. Give me that Newspress award.