Can We Stop Gatekeeping Other Cars?

We all like different things. It’s what makes the human condition somewhat bearable. I don’t like mushrooms, I find them vile. You, however, might deem them to be the highlight of your fry up. And do you know what? That’s fine. What wouldn’t be fine is if I strode up to you in the café, pointed at your ‘shrooms and hollered about how much I dislike them. And this extends beyond the culinary world. You won’t tell someone their home décor wasn’t for you. You wouldn’t point at their partner and loudly declare how you find them unattractive. Yet, for some reason I find utterly unfathomable, people do it with cars. They think it’s okay to engage in a bit of gatekeeping, but it’s not. What one person does to their car is their choice.

I’ll preface this by saying this isn’t about me, but to make these words work, I do have to speak of my own recent experiences. It’s what prompted me to write this gatekeeping piece. As in, a piece about the action of gatekeeping, not me being the gatekeeper. If you want to put TSW Venoms on your Triumph Herald, I’m not going to stop you. It’s not my bag, but it’s also not my car. You do you. Anyway, back to my recent experience…

I like buying old cars that are a hair down at heel. I like buying them, I like fixing them up and I like, occasionally, to make them mine with modifications or other changes. My Rover 800 Vitesse is lowered, it has racy brakes, a push-button start, a thumping stereo and an electronic boost controller. I need not justify any of these these things, as it’s my car. Other cars skate by, like the Rover 827Si I restored here on Car & Classic. That stayed 100% standard, because it was a rare survivor. My 2001 Daimler 4.0 V8 will go the same way. My recently acquired 2000 Mercedes-Benz E200, however, has not. This, despite being a largely unremarkable car, has brought about a lot of gatekeeping.

I’m a simple man. I like big saloons on even bigger wheels, so I bought a set of used 18×8.5 and 18×9.5 3SDM alloys and threw them on. This caused much feather ruffling. People telling me that the original wheels were better, that I need to leave it alone, that I should keep it standard. I think it looks ace. It’ll look even better when I lower it. But no, I have people groaning and gatekeeping over it. It’s a £995 battered Merc. I have not put an eBay body kit on a Porsche 911 2.7 RS. And it’s not people telling me they don’t like it. I’m fine with that. It’s the ‘should’. It’s the ‘that’s wrong’. No, it’s not.

And this is something rife in the automotive world. I don’t know what it is that makes the car a perceived green zone for gatekeeping. Again, a person wouldn’t do it with mushrooms, or décor, or partners. But cars, which we feel passionate about, are apparently fair game. Last year at the NEC I caught the tail end of a conversation in which a man in a heavy knit was telling someone exactly how he’d ruined his car. Jog on you loser, the man is exhibiting his car that he loves at the NEC. He is proud, he is happy, his car is fine. Not for you? Walk on by. There are thousands of other cars to look at.

What someone does with their car is for them. Cars, unlike other possessions, are a very personal thing. I didn’t put big wheels on my car to please other people. I did it because it makes me happy. I like looking at it, it makes me proud. That’s all that matters. And that’s the same for you. You do you, you have your car – classic or otherwise – however you want it. As long as it’s safe, legal and inoffensive, it requires no external interjection. My Merc was (and still is) mechanically tip top. It just looked tired. I have spent happy hours in the sun putting that right, it has brought me joy and it has given me some focus. Your car has done that too, I bet. And so it should. If you want to paint it dayglow yellow and fill the boot with spaghetti hoops, you can, because it’s yours.

The person who indulges in gatekeeping is an empty, sad, aimless person. That person only has their displeasure to keep them going. They probably don’t have the gumption to express themselves creatively, they’re probably not secure in their passions and that’s their loss. I feel sorry for them, truly. Because like a great many of you, if I ever found myself telling someone that their property, which makes them happy and brings them pride, is wrong, because I say so… I’d die inside. Which I’d need to, because to engage in this trend of gatekeeping, inner death is apparently a strong prerequisite.