I fancy myself a pretty good driver. I get irritated when men talk about "women drivers." In fact, my old boss changed his GPS to a man's voice because he couldn't stand "having a woman tell him how to drive." And when a friend of mine told me a couple of weeks ago that I can "park like a man," I thought seriously about punching him in the face. But I'm a lady.
This afternoon I parked my car, ran to the quick drop, slid my Modern Family and Lost DVDs in, and ran back to my running car. I started backing up slowly, checked for traffic, and upon seeing a coming car, tapped the break... or I thought I was tapping the break, at least. Sadly, no. I hit the gas.
Strike one.
Luckily, the car had already passed before I could crash into him, so I started to reverse again. Oh, hello, median. Didn't see you there. No worries, the SUV can handle a bump or two.
Strike two.
But wouldn't you know there's a man sitting there in his Mustang watching the whole debacle. And he wasn't shy about staring. I considered giving him an obscene finger gesture, but again... I'm a lady.
And therein lies the problem as well: I'm a lady. So I'm sure ol 'Stang chuckled to himself as he watched the little lady try to maneuver her big, complicated car.
I'm sorry that I didn't help our cause today, ladies.
On top of that, I'm a blonde lady. So my lapse of judgment-- or slip of the toe, rather-- caused double the damage. Today, I am disgrace.
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