The Three Things You Can't Tell About a Man Based on His Car

"Hey ladies!  Come roll with me!Come fly down the streets in this car, so free!"I laugh as I watch those shiny wheels spin, and I can't help but wonder, "Why are you 'blazing' up and down these streets with your tricked-out racer riding on chrome?  These are the suburban streets of America and the only ones you are impressing are the pre-teens.  They will come running in hoardes, but that is simply because they love anything that shines or spins."I do, however, take pride in my vehicle of choice.  I cruise the strip, pickin' up chicks in my... well... relatively new 28-speed mountain bike.  Sometimes, when my mother is busy watching a movie or gardening, I hit the road in her white minivan.  I get "hoots" and "hollas" like no one's business flying around on those wheels.  All those fools wishin' they were me.Ah, who am I kidding.  I don't get any "hoots."  I got a "holla" once, but I think that was an old man sneezing, stopped next to me at a stoplight.  If the stereotype held true is my case, what would I be like, as a person?

Me, as a Person, Based on my Ride

• I am a momma's boy
• I am cheap and can't afford gas, much less a car
• I am either ugly or have a strange personality (what kind of man would cruise around on a bike and ask his mother for the keys on those longer, cross-town, ventures?)

We all know that none of those are true (imagine that I am studly, very independent, rich, etc).  What, then, can you really tell about a man based solely on the car he drives?

His style.  How classy he is.  And more importantly, how rich he is.