Women and Cars

"I hate going to Jiffy Lube, because I always intend to just get my oil changed, but then they walk me out to my car and show me all this stuff that should be added and changed. Most of the time I can say no to everything, but they always get me with the air filter. This time, it was the cabin airfilter. That sounded so important. They pulled it out of my car and it was black and full of leaves, and I thought, 'oh my gosh! That looks horrible!' So, I let them change my cabin airfilter and change my oil."
-Lucy-

So funny, so true. If I were to take the top ten moments of feeling completely stupid, at least five of them would have happened at mechanic's shops. I get nervous just walking into one. They are so full of... men. Like a QuikTrip... only without the tasty snacks.

To me, they say "If we change the airfilter, you'll get better gas mileage." Um, ok. "And, we should put the more expensive oil in because your car is old." Um, ok? I have a feeling they see me drive up, and they hear a "cha-ching" in their head. Maybe they think "oh, no."

There was the time a mechanic was writing down all my contact information, car type, etc... then he stuck his hand out towards me. Interesting, I thought, but friendly enough. So, I shook his hand. "That's nice, but I actually need your keys." Lovely.

Or, the time the mechanic said, "what's your phone number?" I said, "oh, I'm staying here." (Long pause, blank stare from mechanic) "We won't be able to fix your car today."
To which I replied, "Yes, but my dad told me I needed to wait here until you had figured out what is wrong, then I'm supposed to let you tell me what's wrong. Then I will call someone and they will come get me. But I'm staying here until you figure out what's wrong."
There was no response to this, just a very long, very blank stare, his pen poised over the contact form.
Once the pause had become uncomfortable, I said, "I'll go ahead and give you my number now."
"That would be good." He looked relieved.

When I'm feeling really desperate, I call my dad... while the car guys are standing right there... watching me... usually, I just hand the phone to one of them, and say, "Can you tell my dad everything you just told me?"

Thirty years from now... I don't foresee a whole lot of improvement in this area.

Sorry, Dad.

Maybe I'll be living somewhere where I can take the bus everywhere... or ride a camel... or walk barefoot...

All of that sounds better than owning a car.