'If I can drive a car, I can do anything' is just one of the thoughts that dance in juvenile drivers' heads unexpressed but felt. You would think only vulgar residents of off-color cities like Delhi had that complex. But calm down - in that wholly underplayed but doubly-vexing way, possession of a car and the driving of it plays the same tiring power game here. 'I got the car' - what does it do for the driver? If they are already disposed to a mania for control - it gives them their kick while the hapless companion crouches supine on the side seat, powerless and subject, a spectator. If the supine has little choice in the company he keeps, in no time he/she will be overtaken by the need for ownership and actual use of a similar 4-wheel gadget, hoping to gain the latitude he was previously only witness to ... After a party, the animals disgorged on the pavement, 'who has a car?' is like 'who has the penis?' If you are in certain professions, the employment of such a vehicle and all its prestige significations (over the ubiquitous and less capable two-wheeler) feeds the the need to feel you are physically getting somewhere, doing things - indeed, covering ground. Some dafts deserve to be in petit bourgeioise professions where their attentions are cr(/l)owded out by gadgets, conversation, frequencies that prevent them from even considering the significant ratio of signal:noise.