Matthew McConaughney's \"fucking red sports car\"

A little context on what kind of boy Matthew was at that time.

In his own words, he was “never the too-cool-for-school guy… I was the guy who danced at parties. The guy who chased the girls… I gave effort. I was a hustler.”

Then one day, he saw a pretty red Nissan 300ZX for sale.

“On the spot, I traded my truck,” he said.

Maybe after being a hustler for all that time, he finally wanted to be the one who was chased.

He said to himself, “The chicks were going to dig my red sports car more than my truck, and hence dig me more.”

After that, Matthew would come in early, park his red car, and lean against it, waiting for a swarm of girls to come to him.

Instead of doing the work himself, he wanted his new tool to do it for him.

But after a few weeks, he noticed, “They weren’t digging me like they used to… like they were bored with me… they went muddin off-road in someone else’s truck.”

Once he realized this, he traded back his “fuckin red sports car” for his old beat-up truck.

And he got his charm back.

This is quite a common disease, one I often find myself a host of.

I’ll see a new book, a new product, or a new person, and immediately find myself in a bolthole. Instead of owning the real problems, I just loan my problems to it.

This is Heidegger’s tool trap.

Tools are supposed to disappear into action.

Because when a tool is used properly, you do not notice it.

Like a ladder disappears into the act of climbing.

A shovel disappears into the act of digging.

A pen disappears into the act of writing.

The moment a tool becomes the focus, when you admire it, rely on it, or expect it to carry meaning on its own, it stops doing its job.