Homebound delights.

By all standards, I shouldn't like Top Gear. Maybe one of the twenty-five Americans who watches BBC America will agree with me. It is the quintessential man's show: the set is bare and garage-like, with no comfy seats for the strangely-devoid-of-females-audience (they stand around like He-Man Woman Haters in the clubhouse). The show is SOLELY about cars. Nothing else, I tell you. They don't talk about celebrities or clothes. They aren't real housewives and they don't cook anything. They do have a celebrity guest on each show, but most of the time I don't know who it is--and ALL THEY TALK ABOUT IS CARS. The so-called celebrity doesn't promote their movies or shows, there is no discussion of their love life, unless their significant other has recently bought them a car.

The three hosts, Jeremy, James, and Richard, aren't particularly hot, so it's not the eye-candy that draws me to it--although James May does have this kind of Sexy Older British Man Who Can Pull Off Long Salt and Pepper Hair Look. But that's not it. If I met them, they would ask me what kind of cars I have owned, and I couldn't name a single one, out of five, that could keep them from spitting on my feet and turning away from me in utter disregard.

Here is the extent of my knowledge about cars. Recently I learned how to pour coolant into one, and I was taught once or twice how to change oil, but the knowledge left me to make room for more important knowledge, like whether or not LeAnn Rimes is getting a divorce. The guys on Top Gear put much stock in what kind of car you drive. The more powerful, the better. Here is my first car, a 1987 Nissan Maxima:



If it gives me any more street cred at all, mine was red. And I once beat my friend Tom's Camaro in a race with it.
This is my latest car:



A Ford Mondeo. I believe I heard them mention it on the show once. I think they called it "The automotive equivalent of a suicide note." Just kidding. But they definitely did make a snide remark about Mondeos.

The fact is, despite all this, when test driving a new car, they say things like, (in British accent) "It was a bit disappointing. I had hoped that it would put its hand down my pants and have a good rummage."

Equally entertaining is when one of the guests calls a Chevrolet he has driven a "useless piece of Yankee shit". I should be offended by that, but I can't help feeling a little stimulated when I watch the show. What can I say? Despite the off-the-charts testosterone levels and the complete lack of fashion, book-reading, cooking, or celebrity gossip, I always flip over to it when it's on. It's become one of my favorite things about living in Ireland. It just rummages me in all the right places.