I've discovered I really like to clean my car.* I've usually driven practical little jellybeans or impractical jalopies, and they just didn't seem worth vigorous attention. But now I have a bright, shiny future-mobile, and all that's changed. I find myself giving it the full work-over with surprising regularity: vacuum, wash, wax, wipe it down, hand dry, shine the rims...
Plus the T.C.L Car Wash on a Friday afternoon is such a deeply entertaining place to be—angle parked beneath the "NO LOUD BASS" signs, a whole long row of (almost exclusively) men obsessively tweaking out that perfect glint** for the weekend—mute male bonding at its finest.
* I'm secretly a neat person, but I share all other corners of my life with not-quite-so-neat people ranging from my lovely-but-slightly-slovenly wife (just a teeny bit, hon!) to my vibrantly entropic children. This is the one place that's fully my own. "No crumbs!"
** Though I confess, I'm not that good at it yet (as my streaks and water-spots will testify). But I studiously watch my neighbors, and I'm learning.