Matt Hranek knows why you can’t look away from a vintage Porsche 356 or a beat-up Land Rover Defender. It isn’t about the horsepower. Honestly, it's barely about the metal at all. His book, A Man and His Car, isn't just a coffee table decoration for guys who like to smell gasoline; it is a catalog of soul.
Cars are weird. They’re these massive, expensive, dangerous kinetic sculptures that we somehow turn into family members. If you’ve ever patted your dashboard after a long road trip, you get it. You’re the target audience. Hranek, who previously gave us A Man and His Watch, spent years chasing down the stories behind some of the most famous—and some of the most wonderfully obscure—vehicles on the planet. He didn't just want the specs. He wanted the "why."
Every machine in this collection acts as a vessel for a human life.
The Machines That Define A Man and His Car
Most automotive books are boring. They list torque figures and paint codes until your eyes bleed. This one is different because it focuses on the provenance. Take the 1968 Ford Mustang GT 390. That's not just any Mustang; it’s the actual car Steve McQueen drove in Bullitt. For decades, people thought it was gone. Vanished. Then it resurfaced, patina and all, looking exactly like a car should after it’s been lived in.
Hranek talks about Ralph Lauren’s collection, which is basically the Louvre of the car world. But then he pivots to something like a beat-up Jeep Grand Wagoneer. It’s that contrast that makes the book work. You have the high-gloss perfection of a McLaren F1 sitting right next to a car that someone used to haul groceries and kids for twenty years.
The photography by Stephen Lewis is visceral. It doesn't look like a brochure. The lighting is moody. You can see the cracks in the leather. You can see the oil drips. It feels real.
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Why We Care About Other People's Junk
We live in a digital age. Everything is smooth, glass, and ephemeral. A car is physical. It’s heavy. It has a scent—usually a mix of old foam, unburnt fuel, and memories. A Man and His Car taps into that specific nostalgia.
Consider the story of the 1956 Porsche 356 Speedster. It’s a beautiful car, sure. But in the book, it’s about the connection to the owner’s father. It’s a physical link to a person who isn't there anymore. When you turn the key, you’re hearing the same mechanical symphony they heard. That’s heavy stuff. It's why people spend $100,000 restoring a car that's objectively worse to drive than a new Honda Civic.
Logic has nothing to do with it.
The Diversity of the Garage
You might expect a book like this to be a boys' club of Ferraris and Lamborghinis. It's not.
- The 1988 Lamborghini Countach owned by Mario Andretti.
- A 1952 Hudson Hornet.
- Shaquille O'Neal's customized "Sleeper" bus.
- A simple, rugged Fiat 500.
Variety is the point. Hranek understands that a car reflects the ego, the insecurities, and the triumphs of the person behind the wheel. When you look at Jay Leno’s 1955 Buick Roadmaster—the car he used to sleep in when he was a struggling comic in Los Angeles—you aren't looking at a luxury vehicle. You're looking at a monument to "making it."
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The Cultural Impact of the Automotive Narrative
We are currently at a weird crossroads in history. Internal combustion is on its way out. Electric cars are fast, quiet, and efficient, but they often lack "the thing." That spark. That vibration. A Man and His Car feels like a preservation project. It’s documenting a century of mechanical obsession before everything becomes a silent appliance on wheels.
It captures the era of the "driver's car."
I remember reading about the 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4. It’s arguably one of the most beautiful things ever made by human hands. But Hranek doesn't treat it like a museum piece. He treats it like a tool for experience. That’s the nuance people miss. Collectors who hide their cars in climate-controlled bubbles are missing the point. The book celebrates the scratches. It celebrates the miles.
Getting the Most Out of the Read
If you’re picking this up, don't rush it. It's not a novel. It's a series of vignettes.
Basically, it’s a book for people who look back at their car after they park it. If you don't do that, you might not get it. But if you do, every page feels like a conversation with a friend who "gets it."
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One of the coolest parts is seeing the personal items left in the cars. A pair of old driving gloves. A map. A specific keychain. These are the tiny details that tell the story of a life lived on the road. It’s about the journey, man. It’s a cliche for a reason.
Practical Takeaways for the Modern Collector
Reading A Man and His Car usually triggers a specific impulse: you want to go buy something old and unreliable. Before you go scouring Bring a Trailer or Facebook Marketplace, there are a few things to keep in mind.
First, buy the story, not just the car. A vehicle with a documented history and a soul is worth infinitely more than a "perfect" example with no soul. Look for the cars that were loved.
Second, embrace the patina. Hranek’s book shows that a car doesn't have to be shiny to be significant. In fact, the ones with the most wear often have the best stories. If you buy a vintage car, don't be afraid to actually use it. Drive it to the hardware store. Take it on a road trip. Let it get a little dirty.
Lastly, understand the maintenance. These machines require a relationship. You can’t just turn them on and forget about them. You have to listen to them. You have to learn their quirks. That’s part of the bond.
What to Do Next
If this world interests you, start small. You don't need a vintage Ferrari to join the club.
- Document your own car's history. Keep a log. Take photos of the trips you take. One day, that's what will matter.
- Visit a local "Cars and Coffee." Don't just look at the cars; talk to the owners. Ask them how they got the car. That’s where the real "A Man and His Car" stories live.
- Pick up the book. It’s published by Artisan and it's readily available. It makes a great gift, but honestly, you’ll probably want to keep it for yourself.
- Follow Matt Hranek's work. He’s active on social media and continues to explore the intersection of style, machinery, and masculine identity through his magazine, WM Brown.
The car is just a tool. But it’s the best tool we’ve ever invented for exploring the world and ourselves. Whether it's a rusted-out pickup or a million-dollar supercar, the connection remains the same. It's about freedom. It’s about the open road. It's about the man, and it's about his car.