I was killing time at work today, reading about cars I’ll never own or drive, and came across this article. I thought hexbear posters would like this bit:

I have spent a lot of time examining masculinity as both a concept and a practice, and it does not work for me, a trans woman. The pill bottles full of little blue ovals I swallow daily to offset the Leydig cells I was cursed with from birth are a testament to that. I know from experience that self-destructive behavior is a cry for help, not a sign of strength, and this car is begging to immolate itself and all stupid enough to sit inside with a three-pedal dance into a concrete k-rail. The men I admire are more Fred Rogers and less Tyler Durden, but without careful throttle control—or self-control—this car would threaten to bring down a skyscraper, and the driver along with it. In short: If there was a personified target buyer for the Viper, I am the opposite of them.

The writer continues this theme throughout the piece, bringing it all together at the end. She’s also right about it looking like a penis.

To encourage engagement, I’ll end this post with a question: what’s the fastest/coolest/scariest car YOU’VE ever driven?

I’ll go first