I recently purchased a car.
This presented a few challenges, mainly because $3,000 is not enough to buy a fully functional automobile.
Dad and I had seen at least six cars before we got to this particular Mazda, which was, according to the Craigslist ad, emitting blue smoke.
So, we pulled up and the owner came out of his garage, walked straight up to Dad and shook his hand, introduced himself — the usual.
Now, by this point in the car-shopping process, I am used to men walking up to Dad and doing the introductions with him before they move on to me, even though I am clearly the one who needs the car.
The usual introductions finished between Dad and the guy selling the car, so I took a step forward to introduce myself and get his name, but he ignored me. He simply turns around to look at the car and starts talking to Dad.
This and that about the mileage and the tires and the mysterious smoke, while I'm left standing behind him, feeling a little brushed off.
Now, as soon as we get in the car, I know this isn't going to be what I'm buying. Idle, the engine is at nearly 3,000 rpm.
I try to shift into first gear, nothing. I had to force it into gear just to get it out of the lot. Second gear was no easier.
There doesn't seem to be much point in continuing, so we head back.
The realization that I have completely been written off as a participant in this process has begun to sink in, and as we get out of the car I am quite pissed.
The guy comes back out and walks up to Dad.
“So how was it?”
I stepped in between them.
“It's pretty tough getting it into second gear,” I said. “Actually, the whole gear box is pretty bad.”
He spluttered, said something like “Oh, I didn't know ...”
I handed him back his keys.
Now, I am no mechanic. But I do know enough about gearboxes and check engine lights to get by. This fact, however, seems to be lost on all the men I have come into contact with in regard to my car.
I also know you may be reading this and giggling to yourself, making “dumb-woman” jokes.
But consider this: If every time you walked into a clothing store, a saleswoman started explaining how pants work, it would get old.
I cannot speak for all women, but for myself, this is true. I hear so many dumb-woman jokes — women can't drive, women can't fix computers or cars, etc. — that I just can't help but be bothered.
Gentlemen of the world: If you'd like to see that teenage fantasy of a girl in hot pants working on her car, stop assuming we are empty-headed fools.
If you'd like to find your proverbial “nerd girl,” let us play Nazi Zombies with you. Stop scoffing when we stick our heads in your rooms to see if there's a free controller.
The time has come to put these ridiculous and irritating stereotypes to bed.
Reach Oonagh at omcquarr@asu.edu
