Dear Fuel Gauge,
Why is it that when my gas tank has one gallon left you suddenly stop working? Your digital screen is supposed to be more advanced and more helpful than the typical dial gauge, however, in my time of need you were no where to be found. You abandoned me. Instead of your usual reliable numeric countdown, you displayed three dashes, which, to me, can only mean that I have 30 seconds to vacate the vehicle before it explodes in the middle of I-90. For this reason we can no longer associate with one another and I will now be relying on Mileage Gauge, who has been reliably been tracking my every mile since day one.
Yours with distain,
No matter what, any time I demonstrate good driving techniques it goes completely unnoticed. When, however, I miss something or make a mistake, people stare into the car and upon seeing me they get this look on their face that says,” of course it’s a woman driver… typical.”
I find myself doing this as well. I’ll driver behind dozens of women and men and of all races, but the instant I’m behind some slow or irrational driver and it’s an old Asian woman I’m like, “of course it’s an old Asian woman. Way to fit the stereotype.”
Also, when I do make a mistake or piss someone off, my defense mechanism is the Beauty Pageant Smile and Wave. I pretend like them honking and flailing in my general direction is some sort of compliment and I am obliged (as a courteous and respectful woman) to accept the compliment wholly.