Laziness has hit me head-on. I blame the heat and humidity; it is the dog days of summer as we used to say in Oklahoma. I realize I’m in air conditioning 95% of the time, from my house to the car to the mall or the grocery store. But I still feel the heaviness of July. So in my laziness, wanting to take a nap instead of write my weekly blog, I am going to post a personal essay from my portfolio. If anyone enjoys its simplicity or content, please post a message. Perhaps it will be help me climb out of my late summer doldrums and motivate me to find my creativity once again.
Male-Female Perspective on the Vehicle
Have you ever noticed how men and women talk about their modes of transportation: i.e. cars, trucks, suv’s?
It’s like we are speaking two totally different languages. When I purchased a brand new car two years ago, I called a guy friend to discuss the sales price and to ask which of two colors I should buy. The important question for me was. . . Red or Charcoal?
To his question of, “Do you like it?” I responded, “Oh, yes, it’s beautiful.”
I knew immediately this was not the right response.
He continued,” Is it 4 cylinder or a 6?”
“Hmm, not sure, probably a 4.”
“Probably?” I hear his tone of disapproval and amazement. “Ok,” he said, “tell me more.”
Now I shine . . . I know this stuff . . . I’m not totally ignorant on the subject of cars. I begin, “Two-door, great stereo system, even has one of those do-hickeys where you can plug in your iPod. Automatic, moon roof, leather seats.” I’m feeling sure of myself. “Oh, and a huge trunk.”
“Uh, huh,” he says, then asks, “Are they including window tint?”
“I forgot to ask about that.”
“How about a bra?”
“I don’t think they carry bras,” I say.
“A leather protector for the front of your car,” he explains patiently.
Then he adds,” What are they giving you on a trade?”
“I think he said $9000.00.”
“So what’s the total?”
“Hmm, well, it was $27,000 on the sticker minus the $9000 for the trade, so $18.000?”
“Is that with tax and title?”
“I think so. Well, maybe not.” Please don’t ask me about rims or engine stuff I silently plead.
“What horse power is the engine?”
Damn! “Let me find out.”
“What’s the MPG?”
“What is an mpg?”
“Miles per gallon — mileage; how much gas does it use?”
“Oh, I’ll have to go read the sticker again.”
“What’s the warranty?”
“I don’t think so,” he says, adding, “Don’t accept a donut.
“I already had one, why?”
I can hear him hesitating, taking a deep breath, before he says,”Ask for a full size spare, the little one inside the trunk is called a donut.”
“Oh, well, why didn’t you just say so?”
“How big are the tires?”
See, here we go, he’s going to mention rims next.
“Are the rims . . .”
I stop him in mid-sentence. “They’re silver.”
His voice is now shaky from displaying too much patience. He says quietly, “Get the Charcoal.”
* * *
The day he got his new truck, it went something like this.
“Great,” I say, “what color is it?”
“I don’t know . . . some kind of grayish, tannish metallic.”
“But . . . ” he continues, “sweet ride, killer sound system, 315 horse power engine, powder-coated aluminum toolbox, long bed, towing package.”
I can feel his eyes glaze over. I ask, “What do you tow?”
“Nothing yet, but it will pull 10,000 pounds.”
“Great, and how many tools do you own?”
Oops, not the right question, I think.
He picks me up, I hop in, and we drive up the street to a little local bar. As I literally climb out of the truck
and jump to the ground, he says, “Lock the door.”
“Use your remote,” I reply. I look at him looking at me. “Oh, no automatic door locks?”
“Of course not.” “Oh, and roll down the window just a bit.”
“Let me get this right, no power windows?”
“No, that’s for sissies! . . But it has 75 cubic feet of cargo room; it will turn on a dime, and will climb any hill you put in front of it.” He’s grinning from ear to ear.
I look at him and want to ask how many hills he finds on the freeway, but instead I simply say, “It’s really pretty.”
He visibly cringes.