The psychology of car buying

I spend a lot of time reading about psychology and sociology, both because I'm interested and also because it's important to my career. I need to understand how my customers think and why they might want -- or not want -- our products.

I'm also a music fanatic, so I was intrigued by this NPR blog post titled, "Does the music you listen to reflect your intelligence." The post led with an observation from the book "Spent," in which author Geoffrey Miller says:

"Driving an Acura, Infiniti, Subaru or Volkswagen is a sign of high intelligence. Driving a Cadillac, Chrysler, Ford or Hummer is a sign of low intelligence."

I'm generally down with that statement (although I'm not sure I'll ever own a Subaru; too safe for me). I was among the first Acura owners in America and recently shopped hard for an Infiniti. Both are known for high performance, reliability and good resale. They also have what I think are good looks in a sea of blandness (others disagree with me). However, I also own a Ford Explorer, and after 14 years at 161,000 miles, it's still a keeper for me, low intelligence or not.

But to take car-shopping sociology question to the next level, here's a question I hear more and more: What's the difference between a guy car and a girl car? 

For example, a Volkswagen Cabriolet is a chick car. Same with a VW Bug (it has a flower holder, for chrissakes).

But what about a Mini Cooper? I love Coopers, which have great performance, excellent mileage and a unique interior that's unmatched by any car I've seen. I'd have bought one, but it's tiny size just doesn't fit my family needs. But I've heard them termed "chick cars" even though they ride like a go-kart. I also heard a woman the other day refer to a Lexus as a "chick car." Um, I own a Lexus sedan. Not exactly super sexy, but I've never felt wimpy driving it.

To a great degree, I don't care what other people think, but I'm getting a feeling that as time goes on, guys will be left left choosing between 4-wheel-drive trucks, Camaros and Corvettes.

And once you settle on a model, then a whole other layer of gender questioning surfaces: Paint color. Back in the day, you had a choice of black, white, and maybe blue. Nowadays, the color pallette is all over the place (although I find it odd that manufacturers offer only select colors for specific models; why so in an age of choice?). After ruling out a lavender, white, gray and others, we settled on a light blue that I "think" is manly enough for me to drive, although who knows what people might be saying out of earshot. The one compliment on the Highlander's color came from a female co-worker, who squealed, "I absolutely love that color."

Uh-oh.