So I see these fancy sports cars driving along Maseratis, Delirium Tremens, Ferraris, and whatever, and every time the guy driving is some old geezer. Like me, only older and geezerier. So you got this sleek, sexy chassis, with an engine that can go zero to mach 1 in two seconds (of course, it's on 285, so what's the point?) but the guy driving looks like a hard-boiled egg in eyeglasses.
This leads me to my important ground-breaking theory on the inverse relationship between the sex appeal of drivers and their cars.
As you can see by the chart, young guys who are studly and in their prime, drive beat-up hatchbacks and old PT Cruisers, because that's what they can afford. Every once in a while, someone will have enough scratch for a jeep, but mostly hatchbacks and PT Cruisers, like I said. By the time your bank account has swollen to the point you can pop for your dream car, the people make Ax Cologne and publish Maxim have long since given up on you, and you're getting mail from AARP. And reading it.
As brilliant as this theory seems, there is one flaw I can detect. I, at this moment, look not unlike a hard-boiled egg in glasses. Not quite, but almost. Imagine a hard-boiled egg that still has some hair. By my analysis, I should be driving a Mustang at the very least, and yet I drive a Rav 4, possibly the lamest vehicle outside of the P T Cruiser itself.