My car hates me.
Well, she’s more like a really testy girlfriend. She goes through phases where she’s just great: no cutting out shit, no flat batteries, no clogged arteries. She’s really a good car in so many ways. She’s light on petrol - which is rare and very important these days. I mean, she’s not perfect. Like someone who wishes their girlfriend had bigger boobs or a smaller arse, I wish she had air-conditioning and a more potent second gear. But, for the most part, she’s reliable.
But over the past four years, she’s been a moody bitch between her bouts of steady sanity. Had to get some of her wires cut when she kept just shutting down for no reason. She’s been with so many auto-electricians in her life... It’s disgusting. And she still wants a new bloody battery every year and a half. I wont bore you with all the details, suffice it to say she’s demanding and difficult. And I bring this all up because she’s once again pulled a little hissy fit. Again, details unnecessary.
But the funniest thing about all this is how the men react. How they want to rescue you from your automobile hell. Like they know what a pain in the ass a moody, stubborn bitch can be, and they’d like to help you out of that pain. A referred empathy. Which isn’t to say that you’re the moody, stubborn bitch, just that he’s been there.
And they go into real MAN-MODE. They try touch as many greasy, dirty parts of the under-bonnet as possibly; get as grimy as they can to show you how HANDS-ON they are. And man, do THEY want to be the dude who fixes it and saves you! “NO! Don’t call the mechanics yet! I’m sure we can fix it!” And unfortunately, they usually fail. Unless it’s something as simple as a flat battery or a busted fuse. Even then, it can elude even the most enthusiastic males *cough*. It’s very cute.
I suppose my point is that no matter how androgynous we’re likely to become, as matter of evolution, men will always want to be heroes. Bear Grylls Syndrome.
And that us woman-folk (or man-friends) should let them be. Let them stare at your engine for an hour and a half, while you hold a tray of wrenches nearby. There’s a natural instinct in males to be masculine, strong, and most importantly, right. So even once you’ve taken your cab to a proper mechanic, build him up yeah? Tell him he’s so amazing, you would never have guessed there were fuses on the battery too! Oh my gooodNESS! Et cetera.
Or better yet, get a decent car that doesn’t fuck you around.