Of Women and Car Repairs

Last Friday I had to take our van into a Ford dealer to have a recall repair done. On the way I was feeling some nervous trepidation rising in me like wayward bile creeping up into my throat. You see I don't like to take my car in for repairs. I especially don't like going to Dealer service departments but I even get a bit tense at tire stores or jittery at Jiffy Lube. Why? Because first, I'm a woman. Second, I'm a woman who knows very little about how cars work and third, I had a bad experience with a Ford dealer back when I was short on cash, even shorter on life experience, and trying to make my little blue Pinto driveable again.

When I was a teenager my sister bought a brand new metallic blue Camaro and I was with her when she drove it off the showroom floor. We left in a beautiful haze of coolness. I always tried to convince her to let me drive it but she (probably wisely) never gave in. I do appreciate good looking vehicles and I enjoy riding in them but I have a pretty utilitarian attitude when it comes to cars. A car gets me from point A to point B. My eyes don't light up when I talk about how powerful an engine is and revving an engine doesn't bring on an adrenaline rush (that probably has something to do with the fact that my main car is an 8 year-old Toyota Corolla and my second car is a 12 year-old Ford Windstar---although I do like to fantasize about being a race car driver when I drive a stick-shift---) Being confident at the repair shop goes beyond knowing the names of car parts. When a man takes his car into a mechanic there is a silent understanding and respect. There is a certain body language spoken, a way of standing or nodding the head. Even if I were professionally disguised as a man and carefully studied and painstakingly duplicated all the nuances of male behavior I know that I would be immediately routed out as an imposter in a garage. Somewhere an invisible meter measuring maleness would be indicating testosterone levels in an unacceptable range and a silent warning would be sounded. Even men who know little about cars seem to fit in better than women in any auto service-related business. I am not man-bashing here. It is just the way things are...like most men have a hard time feeling comfortable when they find themselves sent to the store to purchase feminine supplies. They just don't understand terms like flow and wings used in that context.

I admire women who take the time to learn about the cars they drive. I do know how to check the oil and other vital fluids and put air in the tires and I can call my husband very quickly to ask questions but that is about the limit of my automobile prowess. I once had a young woman do an oil change on my car at Jiffy Lube. In a way I envied how comfortable she seemed in her coveralls. I would personally feel empowered if I owned a pair of oil-stained coveralls with my name on them and could look under the hood of a car, tighten this and that, and straighten up with a confident look on my grease-smudged face while wiping my hands casually on a big dirty rag in my back pocket(take a breath here)---and yet, I felt a little sorry for the young woman because it couldn't have been easy for her to be taken seriously in that work environment. I don't mean to sound sexist but when you take your car in for maintenance or repairs how many women do you see working beyond the reception area?

I think Auto Shop would be a great required companion class to Driver's Ed and a major prize should be awarded to anyone who reads his or her car repair manual. My husband can fix many car problems but he is limited on time and tools. People need mechanics and there are many skilled mechanics who need jobs. I have helped several of them put food on the table and sometimes I worry if I have sent some of them laughing all the way to the bank.

Which brings me to my eye-opening experience involving repairs on my Pinto...I had just had the transmission replaced by an independent mechanic but I needed to take it into the Ford dealer to have another problem diagnosed. They called to let me know that I needed new gaskets or something and that while they were at it, my transmission looked like it didn't have much life left. I remember it was difficult to respond with my mouth gaping open in shock. I tried to sound calm as I told them to just take care of the gaskets and I would think about replacing the transmission. I didn't know whether to scream or laugh hysterically. How dare they tell me that I needed a new transmission when I had had a new one put in just weeks before! I should try to think the best of people. Maybe there is no such thing as New Transmission Smell or maybe the transmission didn't have the price tag still on it---But this experience left me quite mistrustful of all dealer service departments and admittedly has made me a little paranoid, intimidated or unnecessarily defensive when it comes to getting my car fixed. (now and then I mutter things to myself like, ' So I don't know about O-rings but I bet he can't tell if bread dough is the right consistency just by feel') I think I perceive non-verbal pats on the head as I am trying to nod at the right times while trying to put my brain in full throttle and understand what I am being told is wrong with my car. Sometimes I feel like I have a flashing neon sign above my head that says, You Can Take Advantage Of This One.

To make a long story not too much longer, my recall trip to the Ford dealer was quick and painless and even better...paid for by Ford. I left feeling downright giddy! And in all fairness most of the mechanics I have dealt with have been very nice and honest. If they do shake their heads about how little I know about something I drive everyday they have the decency to do it when I am not watching. They do the work. I give them the money. We are both happy.

By the way, on my way to the dealership I saw a man walking to the side of the road just under the freeway overpass. He was wearing a kilt. He seemed quite comfortable with himself and I thought if a man can walk along a busy road wearing a skirt and act like it is the most natural thing in the world for a man to do then I can woman-up and take my car in for repairs without trepidation.

What scenes are passing by your car window?