Jasmin Schädler: Insights into the Research

For a long time, my father’s car smelled like Wrigley’s kids’ chewing gum—his favorite, which he chewed every time he got in the car. That sweet and fresh scent was the only constant. The cars themselves changed regularly, and every new one—always brand new—smelled of plasticizers that made me feel slightly dizzy.

My mother, on the other hand, always had long-term cars and stuck to the same model over the years. Since I was born, there have been exactly three: three Nissan Micras. The latest, built in 2009, is still going strong today.
I never developed a particularly emotional relationship with cars. Ours never had nicknames; we referred to them by model or brand. Our cars were always pragmatic and tidy inside. A few useful items had their designated spots, and for a while, a bobblehead dachshund sat on the rear shelf of the Micra because my brother and I found it hilarious as kids.

Whether we’re personally attached to cars or not, almost everyone has some story connected to them—because cars are omnipresent in our world, especially here in Central Europe. And even more so in Stuttgart, the Württemberg "stud garden," home of the Swabian horsepower: from aristocratic horse breeding to private car manufacturing.

The Stuttgart region has this to say:
"118,000 people in the region are directly employed in the automotive cluster. If you include companies that aren't strictly part of the vehicle manufacturing sector but generate a large portion of their revenue from it, that number rises to around 215,000. Nearly 54 percent of all manufacturing revenue in the Stuttgart region comes from the automotive industry. And 56 percent of the entire revenue generated by Baden-Württemberg’s vehicle industry is produced here."

So, in Stuttgart, the car shapes our identity at least as an abstract economic factor. But what are the personal stories behind all these cars? And what role does the car play as an identity-forming element?
Automobile—self-moving—we move ourselves, individually, and the vehicle moves itself, independent of rails or power lines. A double self that becomes a whole: the car. A truly self-referential term and the beginning of a daily lived cyborg identity. But who enhances whom? The car, the human—or the human, the car?
How would an outsider interpret this? Evan Eisenberg and Daniel Miller each imagined a kind of parable about it—see The Humanity of the Car by Gordon M. Sayre (2020). Aliens observe our civilization from above and conclude that the dominant species must be shiny reptiles on wheels (sometimes two, sometimes twelve) that are inhabited, used, and maintained by humans—either as parasites or symbiotic partners in an endosymbiosis. The humans do everything they can to make life as comfortable as possible for these wheel-reptiles.

So, have we turned ourselves into a means to an end for the car in just under 150 years? Or is the car ultimately a medium through which we express ourselves? On many levels, the car is an externalization of the self. Often, it’s the first—or even the only—thing others see of us. Sometimes, the world really is like the Pixar film Cars, where only cars interact. There are now theories suggesting that inside every one of those cars is a human who has fully entered into symbiosis with the vehicle—in a world no longer livable without this protective shell. A rather dark backstory for such a cheerful and colorful film.

A 2006 study by the Department of Psychology at the University of Würzburg found that participants could match people to their cars with over 60% accuracy.

As part of my interviews, I also had the chance to speak with Sara Dahme—art educator, city council member, and car enthusiast. We sat with a microphone inside a 1970 Porsche 911, in the hall of Rühle Sportwagenbau. Sara brings a multifaceted perspective on cars, shaped by her diverse background, and has well-articulated thoughts ready for every question about the social and cultural significance of cars. She answered the question about cars as status symbols with thoughts on social participation:
"Why do people carry fake Gucci bags on Königstraße? Because they want to belong, they want to inscribe themselves into a world they’ll never be part of. Why do people buy cars they can’t really afford? Because they want to belong, because they want to say, 'I’m part of this.' Sure, it’s fake, but it’s also a totally solidaristic moment. […] That’s just how people are—they want to be seen. And there are many ways to be seen, including through cars."

We also talked about what it means to be a woman with a passion for unique cars—and to not only know them inside out but also to be seen in public with them. Sara shared anecdotes about comments like, “Nice car your husband has,” or “Cool that you drive such a man’s car.” She suspects that cars and women both can function as status symbols—and that when the two overlap, some men feel threatened. It creates a sense of helplessness when a woman owns the desirable car. This connects to certain notions about ownership, attractiveness, objectophilia, and desire.

The car as an object of desire or a beloved counterpart seems to be a major theme. Cars were long marketed using female-coded bodies and portrayed as partners, desirable others—the direct point of identification for the male buyer.

Some people told me they give their vehicles names. That came up in my conversation with car dealer and workshop owner Martin Wolf, too. Many of his customers name their cars and mourn them when they become unfit to drive. I immediately think of the phrase “to give up the ghost,” often used for machines—though it originally referred to human death. The workshop employees also described their work as similar to caring for the human body—after all, if a car doesn’t work properly, it can directly affect the person inside.

At the University of Vienna, research over ten years ago found that people perceive faces in cars—and not just faces, but also personality traits. In an interview with Pulitzer Prize-winning Wall Street Journal car journalist Dan Neil, auto designer Peter Horbury (Volvo & Geely Holding Group) confirmed that this is deliberate: car design teams use our evolutionary tendency to recognize faces and read a lot of information from them very quickly.

A life without cars is hard to imagine right now. We’ve not only anthropomorphized them—we’ve structured our entire way of life around them. While future predictions speak of autonomous transport capsules and drone-operated flying taxis, a world without the personal vehicle as a means of expression and movement still feels very distant. For now, the car is a social connector that enables exchange and encounters across class lines, bringing people together—even those who might disagree on everything else. The car is a reason to talk to one another. Through my interviews, I’ve had the opportunity to meet a wide range of people—some of whom I probably wouldn’t have met without the topic of cars. What we discussed will be available starting June 26th in a stylishly wrapped Opel Combo—many thanks to Jenny Rösch from Atelier Schulze for the hands-on support with the vinyl wrap.

Come by and listen to the car podcast in a car.
On June 26th at Marienplatz, and from June 27th to July 27th in front of the Württembergischer Kunstverein during its opening hours.

There will also be occasional smaller or larger events. For example, on July 25th, composer Ui-Kyung Lee will give a small car sound concert. More events will be announced on social media.

Photo credits:
Season Opening Rühle Sportwagen, May 18, 2025, Photo © Sara Dahme