When I was but a young lad my eyes would always focus on the hotties. Women like Kathy Ireland and Claudia Schiffer were the ones I was attracted to. This led to some very dry years since girls my age that were in that same league were rarely attracted to the skinny, nerdy me. I'm talking to you Brandi Revenaugh.

During these formative years I also cultured my love of cars. I had a subscription to Car and Driver and could hardly wait each month for it to arrive. I would cut out pictures of cars and put them on my wall or on the ceiling next to my Kathy Ireland poster.

I learned a lot about cars and I learned a lot about my taste in cars. I like to look at shiny, outlandish street rods with flames and chrome everywhere. However, I learned that I would rather own something just as powerful, but more subdued. I don't necessarily want everyone yelling at me to do a burnout. I want them to look at my car and say it doesn't look like much, but then keep looking at it and see how much there is if you spend the time to look.

Somewhere around my junior year in high school I finally figured out that my taste in cars is reflective of my taste in women. Sure, its nice to look at the supermodels or the hotties. But I don't want to take them home. No, I like women who may not be the most gorgeous, but who have brains and personality. Women who make you realize how much there is when you take the time to look.

One of the best lessons a man can learn is that your taste in women and cars have a strong parallel. If I had figured out that the understated beauty of the cars I like should be indicative of the girls I should have been focusing on, maybe I would have had better luck with the women in high school.

Or at least I would have been less frustrated.

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