Cars: The Medicine They Don’t Teach in Medical School and Why Doctors Need to Prescribe Them

Once upon a very dull time, the humble car started life as a simple horse-and-carriage replacement. That’s it. No glamour; No heated leather seats, no touchscreens, no turbochargers, No “vroom vroom.” Just a contraption to get you from your muddy village to the next muddy village without the smell of hay and horse ‘farts’. Functional, unsexy, and about as emotionally stimulation as a wheelbarrow.

Fast-forward to today, and cars have evolved into rolling mood enhancers, therapy machines, and occasionally, four-wheeled declarations of “I’m doing fine, thank you very much, Frances from Accounts.” Cars are not just “transportation.” They are a four-wheeled advertisement of who you are, how you feel, and in some cases, how much money the bank has kindly let you pretend you have.
Cars have changed a lot in 100 years, and If Henry Ford were alive today to see what we’ve turned it into, he’d either beam with pride or sue Lamborghini for indecent exposure.

From Bedroom Wall to Midlife Crisis Garage

If you grew up in the 80s or 90s, chances are you or someone you knew had a Lamborghini Countach poster on their bedroom wall. Remember that wedge-shaped rocket with scissor doors (doors that open upwards like an attention seeking teenager). You swore you’d own one.

Did you grow up and buy one? Of course not. You grew up, got a job, bought a house, had kids, and now your biggest luxury is a washing machine with an eco-mode, and you have now inherited occasional pulled muscle from tying your own shoelaces. Yes, it seems like the universe has conspired to keep you firmly out of Lamborghini territory.

Enter: the Midlife Crisis; Your hairline is in reverse gear, and you suddenly remember you once had dreams. So you buy the car. No! Not the Lamborghini, but something that makes you feel like you’ve cheated the system.
It’s a Fiat 500 Abarth convertible. Still Italian. Still makes the right noises. Still only seats two; perfect for you and your dignity or denial (you choose your passenger), because your other half is tired of featuring in another episode of your midlife crisis. But at least your dream is somewhat fulfilled.

The Science of Cars Making you Feel like a Rockstar

This isn’t just fantasy, science says cars can chemically change your mood, yes you can Google it; In 2009 Researchers at Concordia University’s John Molson School of Business gave 39 young men a $120,000 Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet and set them free. The result? A measurable boost in confidence and mood, the kind usually reserved for lottery winners.
Turns out, horsepower is cheaper than therapy… well, unless you’re the one buying the Porsche.

Why Onlookers Love Your Car Almost as Much as You Do. The Joy always Spills Over to Bystanders

Here’s the thing, the joy of a car isn’t just for the driver. Spotting a rare Ferrari, a gleaming classic Mustang, or a pristine Jaguar E-Type rumbling past is like catching a glimpse of a celebrity in the wild. You may never own it, but in that moment you get a little dopamine hit that makes you think, “One day…”

And that’s powerful. Because those “one day” moments have built empires, inspired promotions, and possibly fueled more overtime shifts than any corporate pep talk ever could.

Even Public Transport Has Its therapeutic Moments

Now, for balance: not all vehicles need 500 horsepower to be therapeutic, not every vehicle needs to have gull-wing doors and a V12 engine . Even the soulless, rattling commuter mini bus or has its charms. Public transport can be a kind of group therapy, it is a place where strangers swap opinions, give unsolicited life advice, and collectively judge that passenger who over-dosed on an egg sandwich at 6:30 that morning.

Cars as a Proxy for Sex Appeal

Let’s be honest, the car you drive can absolutely alter your attractiveness levels. Slide out of a sleek V8 Mercedes AMG coupe, and suddenly you ooze mystery and prosperity. Climb out of a knackered Toyota hatchback with mismatched body panels and you ooze “I’ve stopped trying.” and people assume you’re either incredibly thrifty or on the run from debt collectors.
That deep V8 rumble? It says, “I take risks.” The hiss of a blow-off valve? That says, “I like excitement and I may explode at any moment.”

(Translation: a “blow-off valve” is a little gadget that makes a “pshh!” sound when you lift off the accelerator in a turbo car. It’s basically your car sneezing with attitude.)

It’s the unspoken truth: for some, the right car is the ultimate wingman. It says, “I’m adventurous, confident, and I know my way around a gearstick”, even if, in reality, you’re just good at parallel parking.

The Brotherhood (and Sisterhood) of Petrol heads

From dawn car meets in empty car parks to online forums where strangers debate the correct spark plug gap for a 1987 Corolla, cars bring people together.

(Translation: “spark plug gap” is the tiny space at the tip of a spark plug that decides whether your engine runs smoothly… or coughs like a smoker climbing stairs.)
Entire friendships, even marriages, have started because two people loved the same obscure carburettor.

And at the top of the food chain? Classic car auctions, where cars have crossed into the realm of art. We’re talking about Machines that once cost a few thousand that now fetch millions at auction, destined never to touch tarmac again, sitting in climate-controlled museums like metal Picassos.

Scenario time: A Day in the Life of a Midlife Crisis Car Owner

6:00 a.m.: Awake before the alarm. Why? The weather forecast says “cool but dry” and you take that as divine permission to cruise.

6:30 a.m.: Wipe the car down with a microfibre cloth and spray-on speed wax that cost more than your first bicycle. Check the tyre pressures (that’s how hard the air inside your tyres is working) tyre pressure guage says 32 PSI… oh wait, let’s make it 33 for “better handling”) and convince yourself you can “feel the difference.”

7:00 a.m.: Fire it up. The exhaust note bounces off the houses. The neighbours twitch their curtains they, see you and curse, but deep down, you know they’re jealous.

8:00 a.m.: Completely unnecessary detour to work “to get the oil up to temperature” (translation: to take the long way round because it’s fun). Arrive late but insist, “Traffic was crazy.”

10:00 a.m.: Park miles away from the office to avoid door dings. Colleagues think you’re health-conscious for walking that far.

1:00 p.m.: Someone asks, “How fast does it go?” You respond with a knowing smirk, “Let’s just say the speedometer’s not just for decoration.”

5:00 p.m.: Post-work de-stress drive. Heel-and-toe downshift into the roundabout; pure bliss.

(Translation: “heel-and-toe” is a fancy foot trick where you brake and rev the engine at the same time so the gear change is buttery smooth. But to the untrained eye, it just looks like you’re having a seizure in the footwell.)

8:00 p.m.: You park it in the garage, turn back to look at it one more time like a proud parent, and whisper to yourself: “Best decision I ever made”… until the next service bill.”

The Baby Test: Nature’s Seal of Approval for Cars

If you still don’t buy the idea that cars are therapeutic, here’s Exhibit A: babies. You know, those tiny, noisy humans who think sleep is optional and crying is a competitive sport. Parents everywhere know that the magic trick isn’t always lullabies, warm milk, or gentle rocking, It’s a drive in the car. Even if it’s just round the block, the gentle hum of the engine and the soothing motion will have them out like a light switch. If a car can knock out a sugar-charged baby with no driving licence, imagine what it can do for your stressed-out adult brain?

Your Car: Part transportation, Part disco, Part Confessional Booth

Car manufacturers aren’t stupid, they know how to make cars a better drug, and that’s why every new model comes loaded with Bluetooth, concert-level speakers, and enough subwoofers to start a street party. They know the car isn’t just transport; it’s your private sanctuary on wheels. It’s where life’s marathon phone call gossip happens (and yes, ladies, you know exactly what I mean), and where your breakup playlist suddenly feels like therapy. We’ve all been there; taking the “scenic route” not because we like the view, but because Beyoncé hasn’t finished her verse yet. The car becomes less of a vehicle and more of a mobile concert hall-slash-counselling booth.

The Side Effects of the World’s Most Addictive Drug

A car is a drug. It delivers joy, adrenaline, and in some cases, arousal (yes, I said it). It can make a bad day vanish with the twist of a key. They give you a high, they draw strangers to you, they stir ambition.
But it also has side effects: roadside heartbreak, financial haemorrhaging, and that slow-burn rage when someone in a supermarket car park dings your pristine door.

Still, the benefits outweigh the risks. Which is why, if there were any justice left in this world, doctors would be scribbling things like:

Prescription:
– One sports V8 coupe.
– Dosage: Drive daily, especially when stressed.
– Side effects: uncontrollable grinning, excessive revving, unplanned detours.

Because sometimes the only therapy you can actually afford isn’t a shrink or a spa weekend, it’s a full tank of fuel, an empty road, and an engine that drowns out every single one of life’s bad decisions.

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