I saw the guys that 'loved' their cars. Secretly filming a creepy spilling the seed reel, for one of the rarer public displays of love was quite a passion killer.
It may have been a coincidence that neither man filmed in this old perv young perv less than tense juxtaposition was likely to ever have scrubbed up nice despite mother's best efforts (you feel they may have received their mother's best efforts in other less gracious directions) and that they had hitched their wagons to Volkswagen Beetles - not one of the most beautiful, but one of the most numerous of cars.
They knew their place even in car society. It was not a surprise to hear them lewdly comment on passing Ferrari's and Corvette's ("look at her, that dirty shameless bitch"). You could see the disappointment to know no good looking car would ever look twice at either of them for here were two hopelessly helpless freaks entirely lacking in self-confidence with the opposite sex-machine.
If you see any ugly guy dating a concourse winner he must have a big cock.
The younger fetishist had once had a Mini and was cheating on it with a Morris Minor, the filthy bastard. (The Mini must've felt a pang to read of Colleen McLaughlin's heartache)
The elder showed a picture of a family left far behind, the wife looked like the back end of a bus.