In a turn of events that I would not have thought was a thing that actually happened in real life, at least after high school, had it not happened to me this very morning, I got hit on today expressly because of my car. By an attractive woman, not, like, an older guy in jorts—not that I have anything against older guys in jorts, they just aren’t my type. She seemed nice, if perhaps a bit shallow. Into cars enough to discern an AMG from a “normal” Benz by sound alone, too.
Anyway, if you ever had any doubt your beloved automobile could help your odds with a demographic other than the aforementioned jorts-clad car show crowd: there is hope! You don’t necessarily even need to paint it PMY. But it’s probably still a better idea to rely on your pretty face and charming personality.