Confessions of a Car Girl...Part 5

by Nika of Racerchicks.com

I waited by the auto parts counter patiently for my turn. At first I thought I was mistaken that the clerk was ignoring me – but after he served 2 people I knew arrived after me I had to speak up. “who’s next”? “Me”! I piped up only to see his face look puzzled. I applaud him for his honesty when he apologized for making me wait – you see he thought I was “the girlfriend” of one of the male shoppers. I chuckled politely asked him a question and picked up a part. His look of curiosity turned to a gaze that I must be crazy. You see quote “Not too many people order this part and no woman ever has”.

I’m a car-girl

A group chat was going on and I was daydreaming of some race, some time …somewhere when I heard the conversation turn to old Hot Rod cars. The banter went back and forth on which of the American muscle companies had the best of the “era”. I thought being an observer was fine until I had to correct someone. “The 68 Charger had the round tail lights. That was a 70 you are talking about”. I was looked upon like I opened a vial of bubonic plague. I slunk back …..into the shadows

I’m a car-girl.

I had brought one of the cars in for service. It was idling rough and having horrible gas mileage. Otherwise the car was fine so I was thinking a fuel sensor issue – not anything to fear. As I spoke with Mister Service Manager, he wrote out my information and asked what was happening with the car. I started off by mentioning gas mileage when before I could go on, he interrupted with: “Well there, you know these sports cars use a lot of gas…..now.” in a condescending tone. I felt my claws come out and I considered how I could jump over the counter and grab him by the scruff of the neck. Fortunately I controlled that impulse and instead calmly told him all the details of my vehicle including WHAT was wrong with it – HOW I expected it to be fixed and WHEN I was coming back to get it. The Service Manager looked terrified as if me knowing my car was a sign I was insane.

I’m a car girl.

It was an extremely cold day when I drove past a minivan with its hood up. I don’t know what made me notice and take interest to that particular sight. I see it in my travels often. This time it was a young mother looking helpless and frustrated with two small children eager to be on their way. I rolled down my window and asked if she needed help. My cell phone charged and my winter truck with all the survival supplies, I thought maybe I could be of assistance. (When I mean survival supplies I mean survival – I think I may even have snake bite serum….no snakes live in minus 40…at least I hope). She quizzically looked at me and timidly asked if I knew how to boost a car. “no sweat” as I maneuvered the Jeep to the right spot. Cables out and ready to go just a tow driver appeared on the spot. “Do you need help Lady?”. I beamed when I heard “No thanks – SHE has things in order.” From my stranded friend. The tow truck driver gawked over at me with a look of bewilderment as he drove off. “You must get that a lot” my new found friend stated; “ I mean, guys….thinking you are crazy for …um…..knowing cars”. Crazy I thought.

Crazy because I’m a car-girl?

Maybe the problem isn’t with me so much in loving cars – maybe it’s within the people it shocks. Are we still taught that people must fit specific roles? Do stereotypes still exist? But most of all am I crazy? Hmmm - well,  if being a car girl is insane... I say bring it on, because being normal is just not as much fun then.

For comments, feedback and just plain greetings, feel free to e-mail me at nika@racerchicks.com or AOL IM  "racernika"