Car Trouble
About a week ago, Fighting Nun and I were at a 7-11 and this car pulled up and, right before it pulled into the parking lot, it died. And not just a sputtery "I don't think I got any more in me chief, I've lived a good long life, don't pity me my death" kind of death. This was a sudden death. The "One second we were having a good conversation and the next thing I knew he grabbed his chest and fell to the floor", the-transmission-just-fell-out-and-is-now-residing-on-the-pavement kind of death.
Fighting Nun looked over at the car and was all "That's a bummer but that was a woman driving it, so go figure." You'd think that that would get my feminist side all in an ire, but it was part honesty and part sadness that made me refrain from a diatribe. Because truthfully, that could've been me, and probably will be at the rate my car's going. And also because Fighting Nun knows it. The number of times Fighting Nun has looked at my tires because I told him the Tire Pressure Warning Light won't go away and the car feels kinda lopsided? Three. Number of times I was almost riding on the rim when he took a look? Three. Yeah, I know, not a good ratio.
I get that to be an independent woman, we should take care of this kind of crap, that we should pay attention to our car's needs, blah-blah-blah. But honestly this car crap? That's part of the reason I got married. Yes, emotional fulfillment, someone to spend the rest of my life with, that too. But honestly, the reason I got married is so I'd have somebody tell me what car trouble I'm having, and to kill the hairy, multiple legged creatures that have taken up residence in various corners of my house. I think that subconsciously, that's why all women get married. They just don't want to admit it. Men get married because it means they get to have sex on a routine basis and they no longer have to pay for it, but that's a different topic altogether. But the point is, we all have needs that another person in our lives can help solve, and my needs just happen to be car related.
I get that to be an independent woman, we should take care of this kind of crap, that we should pay attention to our car's needs, blah-blah-blah. But honestly this car crap? That's part of the reason I got married. Yes, emotional fulfillment, someone to spend the rest of my life with, that too. But honestly, the reason I got married is so I'd have somebody tell me what car trouble I'm having, and to kill the hairy, multiple legged creatures that have taken up residence in various corners of my house. I think that subconsciously, that's why all women get married. They just don't want to admit it. Men get married because it means they get to have sex on a routine basis and they no longer have to pay for it, but that's a different topic altogether. But the point is, we all have needs that another person in our lives can help solve, and my needs just happen to be car related.
And don't give me the whole "betraying my fellow feminists by not taking responsibility for my automobile" schpiel. I've got more important crap to worry about. So what if the air conditioner stopped working, one of the license plate lights burned out, the brakes are starting to make a screeching metal-on-metal sound, and the electrical system starts turning lights on and off at wierd intervals. Fighting Nun will tell me when I need to get it fixed. Right?
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