Men are Strange; Men With a Dash Cam Stranger Still

Men and women are different.  Men are—how can I put this—strange.  I have the proof. 

Shortly before Father’s Day Tom was doing on-line research for a dashboard camera for our motor home.  Of course, this interest was couched in concern for the safety features offered by a record of the evil which might befall us on the road. 

Flash back fifteen years.  Tom, a general aviation pilot, was similarly interested in taking a class in “unusual” attitudes flight.  Again, his interest in this intensive three-day class in flying airplanes upside down, in spins, spirals and stalls was all to make us “safer” when we were flying from St. Louis to Sikeston, Missouri to get some famous “throwed” rolls at Lammert’s Restaurant.  You never know when you might have to go into inverted flight over Missouri’s boot heel.  Gravity storms occur over the Mississippi River all the time you know.  Tom took the class.  We have a video tape of him with the sky spinning around him as he pulls out of a “death” spiral.  Tom is a very good pilot, but you can’t fool me—those guys were up there having a damn good time pushing the envelope.   He didn’t have to sell me on the safety aspects.  Trust me, he already knew how to keep from turning the plane upside down.

But now it appeared that a dash cam was important in case we were set upon by a bad driver, a falling boulder or a zombie apocalypse.  In any case, my answer was the same.  “Get the dash cam, dear.  We will call it your Father’s Day present.”  So far things were quite the opposite of strange, they were predictable.

Tom got the dash cam.  Installing it was more fun than a box of Legos.  Our first day on the road was also instructive.  [Note to self: when the dash cam shows what is reflected in the large side mirrors of the motor home, you do have to wear pants.]   But then, “strange” settled in like a hen on a warm egg. 

My wonderful, intelligent, competent and meticulous husband ends each day’s travels by down-loading the memory card from the dash cam and watching the whole trip he has just taken behind the wheel!  That might be six hours’ worth!  He likes to show me parts of it that I might have missed (always a possibility as I do fall asleep).  As I write this, he is downloading these pictures (he insists he doesn’t save the whole trip, just the good parts) to a special drive because he has used up all the memory in his computer!  DO NOT, EVER, ASK THIS MAN FOR PICTURES OF HIS VACATION! 

Who does this?  Why?  What is the answer?  I will tell you what the answer is: men are strange.  They love technology.  They are fascinated with optics.  They like doo-dads, gimcracks and gewgaws, what’s-its and whose-its galore.  Men like to fiddle with things and technology allows them to fiddle with two hands. 

I am personally convinced that it is biology.  Men carry a “Y” chromosome that is really just a truncated version of the female “X” chromosome.  I think that the missing part of their “X” is the part that makes them strange.  Our complete “X” chromosome contains the part that keeps us sane.   

Pray for me and keep the faith.