Three days ago I gently urged my weathered Ford down snow-covered roads on my way home from work. The fear and hysteria of other drivers stood out to me. And then I wondered, how many actually practice “driving?” How many people associate skill behind the wheel with a necessary survival mechanism improving your chances of getting home safely? How many just associate it with F1 and street-racing?
“Game” strikes many as a synonym for hookup culture, however, this is disingenuous as suggesting that the skill of driving makes one a participant in race culture.
In the 21st Century, a necessity for both arises out of the dangers of dealing with others. With obstacles like the divorce court racket, the low societal standards for females, the feeling of entitlement for the average woman to a movie star husband, and the venomous atmosphere in which boys grow up the world has no shortage of dangers for men who wish to find a woman. These are the potholes, slick roads and ice on our roads. How does one ensure his safety in a world of potential crashes? He learns.
Some men learn through experience: watching, listening and observing the movements of others on the road seeing what leads to safe passage or fatal crashes. Others study vigorously from experts until they too have the skills necessary to provide comfort and safety in the volatile environment of the road.
But for every man who has skill behind the wheel, several dozen sad men sit slumped in defeat. They never learned to drive; they never paid attention to the road. They took it for granted as something natural that needed no thought. They took the television and film portrayals of it as Gospel truth.
And now the sad reality: if you did not learn by experience or have a skilled teacher, you are doomed to crash. Not if, but when. Sincere danger whisks past on either side and surrounds us. Perhaps the greatest danger rests in the sheer ignorance and denial of this reality by pacified drivers, the willful ignorant.
The clouds gather over the West and flurries fall. Soon all men behind the wheel without
some semblance of skill will wish they could learn. The young men are watching the crashes of their fathers, uncles and bosses. They’re not buying the 50-year feminist lie anymore. Thankfully, we get more new driving instructors every day with a red pill prescription in hand for the curious.
The Manosphere is about to get a slew of applicants for Gender Studies 101.