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I get it every time. “I wish my GF/wife/SO was like you!” No. You don’t. I am a car chick, and you don’t want to be attached to a car chick. You want to run. Far, far away. And I am going to tell you why it sucks to be married to me.
First and foremost, it is because I am a girl and I know about cars. I know about driving, fast AND twisty. And I might know more about cars and driving than you do. You don’t want to live with that, trust me. You have no idea how fast that is going to get old.
Second. Don’t tell me what car to get. I can figure that out for myself, thank you. I’m probably going to tell you what car you should get. I’m going to not only tell you what chassis to buy, but what motor and transmission to put in it. And if you don’t agree with me and decide to buy something else, I’ll give you crap about it until you are ready to get rid of it. I won’t work on it and I won’t wash it. You can pick the colors, though. I’ll live with that. And if you decide that you need to tell me what to buy, go talk to your mom instead. She probably needs your help.
Third. OMG, OMG, OMG, thank you, honey! What an incredible surprise! I knew you loved me! That turbo kit you found on eBay? The one you bought and didn’t tell me about? Well, it fits my car too. And since it arrived while you were away on a business trip and I had no way of knowing whose car it was for, I already have it installed. On my car. I love you!
Fourth. I’m female. Females like to shop. Not all for the same things, though. You’ll be sorry about that when instead of replacing my worn out old clothes, I’m more interested in a new intercooler or exhaust. When everything I own is covered with grease and oil stains and looks like it spent a week in the gearbox (including that cute Puma tee you got me), you are going to hate it that I don’t shop for clothes. You’re going to wish I shopped for clothes. Yeah, I like those MissSixty jeans, but the only fabric I’m interested in spending money on is the Alcantara I’m going to redo my interior with. Costs more, too.
Fifth. I know how to fold a map. You don’t. You are a lesser being.
Sixth. Your friends all want to hang out with me. At first, this is cool for you. You can bring me along to a meet or a garage day and I don’t get all weirded-out. I can even lend a hand where needed. Eventually the guys realize that I know what I am talking about and I become an equal. And then they remember I am a girl. And now I’m cooler than you.
Seven. Speaking of maps, you had better be a good navigator. This is one that you can’t win. If you suck at navigating, I’ll be cranky because I have to navigate and can’t drive. If you’re great at navigating, you won’t get to drive. In fact, I might drive and navigate at the same time if you’re really that bad. Then I will be happy and cranky at the same time and probably ignore you since you’re pretty much superfluous.
Eight. My toolbox is my toolbox. It is a fancy rollaway stacker filled with nice stuff. I do not skimp on tools. I don’t care if you do, but I had better not catch you pilfering my stuff when yours breaks. I not only have nice tools, I know how to use each and every one of them. I will use each and every one of them on my car and any other car I deem worthy. Sometimes I won’t, which will probably be when I am fixing your car. No tool is no excuse for not working/repairing/etc. If I can do it with my bare hands, you had better be able to. Otherwise, you are going to get owned by a girl.
Nine. My car is my car. It’s not your car. Ask first. And put the seat back. And the mirrors… And the radio station… And if there’s a ding on it, be prepared to pay up.
Ten. You love me for being a car chick, and you hate yourself for putting up with it. If you do manage to put up with it (glutton for punishment, you are), you are going to wonder why all your friends don’t find car chicks of their own. Mostly so they will leave me alone. Let’s face it, I get more attention than you or your car does no matter where we go. Even worse, I go away sometimes just to do car things with car guys. I will probably have a guy as a co-driver, too. I behave myself when I’m away, but you have no way of knowing that. You are just going to have to trust me.
If these aren’t enough reasons to run away from a car chick, I can keep going. I have tons more. Of course, if you decide you are man enough to date that car chick or even marry her, I wish you all the luck in the world. You’re going to need it.
Thanks to the unnamed guys who contributed to this…
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