Ten People Who Still Put a Steering Wheel Lock on Their Cars
1. The Time-Warp Grandpa
Age 82, male, permanently dressed like a 1993 RadioShack manager. Smells faintly of solder and distant disappointment. Believes car thieves roam in themed packs (e.g., “The Bluetooth Bandits”). Locks his steering wheel with the solemnity of a man arming a Cold War missile silo.
2. The Anxiety Prepper
Age 41, female, carries three tote bags labeled “contingency,” “sub-contingency,” and “just in case.” Insists the steering-wheel lock gives her “emotional torque.” Looks like she was born inside a CVS coupon circular. Speaks in whispered worst-case scenarios even at brunch.
3. The Guy Who Collects Expired Coupons
Age 57, wears cargo shorts year-round even in sleet. Hoards archaic devices the way other people hoard grudges. Installed the lock after seeing a dream in which his Camry was stolen by a sentient pawnshop.
4. The Soccer Mom From an Alternate Timeline
Age 39, female, hair tied in a ponytail so tight it can receive AM radio. Has never actually used the steering wheel lock–her parallel-universe self did, and she feels mysteriously obligated. Often mutters, “The other me knows something.”
5. The Self-Certified Urban Ranger
Age 28, nonbinary, dresses like if REI had a nightclub. Wields the lock like a ceremonial staff from a forgotten dystopia. Says things like, “Security is a state of mind… but also a state of metal.”
6. The Man Who Thinks Cars Are Judging Him
Age 63, male, swears his Subaru makes disapproving dashboard noises when unlocked. The wheel lock reassures him that he is in control, not the other way around. Always looks like he just lost an argument with a talking toaster.
7. The Retired Librarian Who Shelves Her Emotions
Age 76, female, whisper-steps everywhere. Wears beige the way knights wear armor. Uses the lock to “quiet intrusive plotlines” in her head. Leaves polite notes on windshields correcting strangers’ punctuation.
8. The Man Who Treats His Car as an Emotional Support Appliance
Age 52, male, dresses in velour. The lock is not for security but for intimacy; he claims it “deepens the bond.” Looks like every portrait ever painted of a man who just bought a blender he will absolutely return.
9. The Woman Who Collects Minor Disappointments
Age 47, owns three diaries labeled “Almost,” “Not Quite,” and “Nearly.” Locks her steering wheel to feel like she has finally completed something. Hair perpetually charged with static as if she argued with a cloud.
10. The Guy Who Trains For a Crime That Will Never Happen
Age 34, male, wears mirrored sunglasses indoors and introduces himself as “operational.” Applies the lock with tactical precision, narrating imaginary threats. Firm believer that his 2009 Corolla is the target of an international syndicate of joyless criminals.
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