Why Watch Nerds Often Love Cars (And Vice Versa)?
It occurred to me as a fresh-hot slick of oil dribbled down my elbow that I probably shouldn’t be wearing a watch. “A hundred-fifty meters water-resistant,” I grumbled, backing out the drain plug until hot oil fed the basin in a fine black stream.
“Sure hope so.”
The author, his Seiko 7002, and a few choice rides.
Later in the utility sink, I scrubbed the Seiko 7002 with an old frayed toothbrush, taking care to clean those little unreachable slivers between the Seiko’s crown and its guards. “Funny things,” I thought. “Watches and cars.” It’s a connection drawn so often it transcends cliché. Keep those eyes rolling all you want; most hopeless watch nerds are, in my experience, down bad for cars. Hodinkee’s virtual (and physical) pages brim with proof. Wheeled things abound around here, as well as a hundred different Watch Spotting posts at Concours greens and endurance-racing paddocks. Porsches, Fords, Land Rovers, Ferraris – you name it – there’s a watch story attached to every automotive namesake. The two objects share their souls in some curious way.
Of course, this has proved to be a useful marketing tool. Throw the right badge on the right watch, and a train full of money apparently follows. But we know in our bones there is an authentic connection, too, the kind that doesn’t move any corporate bottom line. No wrist at your local SCCA grid can raise a mug of coffee without the jangling of a vintage chronograph’s bracelet. But why?
Ted Gushue of Type 7 sports his 1665 Sea-Dweller behind the wheel of a vintage Porsche 550.
Most days, I think it’s not worth looking in the mouth, but that oil-covered Seiko gave me pause. Perhaps my drive to tinker with cars and watches involves no higher function than my brain stem can muster. On some level, I’m simply a dog chasing the mailman. Some crooked strand of my DNA demands it.
“No, that’s not it,” I muttered while scrubbing between the strap and lugs.
Cynics might point to materialism. A person who likes faffy watches (such as myself) would draw naturally to faffy cars (guilty as charged). Both objects signal taste and, when taken to tasteless extremes, display fantastic wealth. But that doesn’t account for us zealots who pack their desk drawers with cheap eBay G-Shocks and wheel a dingy, dinged-up Miata to track days.
Notable car guy Jay Leno wearing a white gold Lange 1 Time Zone at the Audrain Newport Concours d’Elegance.
Another explanation: There’s a natural cross-pollination between hobbies wherein man and machine chase elusive perfection together. The “Watch Dork” and “Car Nerd” are simply walking different paths up the same mountain. At times, those paths converge. There must be some deep communal well within us enthusiasts, I thought, the life source from which every last obsession is drawn, whether old leaky BMWs, carbon racing bicycles, hand-wound chronographs, or vintage lever espresso machines.
In a tin can flying over a faraway land, I found a friend.
Except cars and watches are much closer bedfellows than the rest. For one, they share a common vernacular. Cams, cogs, gears, springs, splines, screws, rotors, wheels, barrels, gaskets, lugs, and automatics – all belong to the road and wrist. Secondly, they’re ever present in our lives, sharing in the creation of our memories, unlike the others (most of the time). But as I wiped that old Seiko dry with a shop towel, my phone buzzed a single staccato, likely a Reddit reply on the subject of my mainline obsessions – cars and watches. A thought occurred.
The real reason we love these inanimate objects is human connection, whether digital or face-to-face. We love the way watches and cars tend to animate our lives. On a recent flight from Modena to Frankfurt, I sat next to a young man with a Tudor FXD “Cycling Edition” on his wrist. Before my frontal lobe could rein in the excitement, I blurted, “Hey I like your watch!” As it turned out, he worked as a mechanic for the Tudor Pro Cycling Team. The watch was team-issued and worn with panache. We got on like an EV on fire, and for that hour-long flight, we swapped stories. In a tin can flying over a faraway land, I found a friend.
What a gift. As our old communes, like churches, bars, and supper clubs, continue to disappear, as politics divide our families, it’s harder and harder to find real community in our lives. As such, it’s harder to place ourselves in the world. Obsessions like cars and watches offer us an antidote to isolation, affirmation of our existence.
See the dude rocking a vintage Speedy down the bar? The guy driving a two-stroke Saab? It’s an invitation, a secret handshake, a promise to meet your enthusiasm with mutual joy. We love cars and watches because of the rabbit-hole aspect, sure, but mostly because without them, we lose community. Other watch nerds offer us that much-needed space – cloistered from the insanity of our world – where agonizing about the nylon weave of NATO straps isn’t considered a social disability but rather a path to enlightenment.
If our most basic desires are to breathe and drink and eat, it’s our most human desire to be seen as we are – without judgment. That makes cars and watches the most important unimportant things there are, conduits to human connection. Whatever the excuse, whether it ticks or drives, our passions are worth chasing. And they’re worth sharing without fear and pretense as often as possible. It’s these things we love that create the community our souls crave, and if you still can’t find it, an oil-drenched elbow will surely point the way.
Hodinkee
