Thursday, November 29, 2007

Girls Who Drive Pick-Up Trucks

I was talking with some guys recently who were joking about girls who drive pick-up trucks. Actually, they were saying that back in the day, those were the best girls to date.

Hmmm. That's funny. When I first started dating my husband I only had a learner's permit. But once I got my license, I drove my dad's old green Ford F-150 truck.

In fact, I'm driving a new green Ford F-150 truck right now!

Okay, so I lose some of my pick-up girl cred because it is my husband's and it has a DVD player, but still.

Not only am I driving it, but I fixed it myself. I worked under its hood! I got grease on my hands!

My husband's poor, overly expensive truck had sat in front of our house undriven and unloved for so long that the battery needed to be replaced. I kept procrastinating about it but when my mom came to visit, I realized that we needed two cars.

I hate to admit it, but I did the stereotypical thing that most women do when they are faced with a car problem. I turned to men. My husband had advice. My father had instructions. Even Patrick helped.

Before I got started on my little mechanical project I turned to my mom and said, "Well, it took three men to get us to this point. And the only one who was really helpful was the gay guy!"

Yes, of all the men I turned to, it was the gay one who was smart enough to suggest I get a book and follow the instructions.

The hardest part of the job was finding all of the tools. Somebody needs to invent a system that forces (straight) men to return their tools to the proper tool box when they are finished using them.

A few years ago I got fed up with always having to solve the case of the missing tools before I could complete any job, so I bought my own set and wrote my name all over the box. Who wants to place bets on how many of the tools were missing when I opened the box to fix the truck?

Anyway, when I told my husband that I had replaced his battery and got his truck running he asked me, "Aren't you proud of yourself?"

"No," I answered. "It wasn't a big deal. Although I did feel kind of like a magician."

But the truth is that I do feel pretty darn proud of myself. And I've been driving his truck for a couple of weeks now to ensure that is stays working.

Now if I could only learn to fit it through the Starbucks drive-though without hitting a curb or taking off a fender I'd feel really proud.


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