My Life as an Auto Mechanic

A friend of mine just made a post about working on her own car. Unusual for a chick, right? But I used to be a do-it-yourself-er myself. In high school, I drove my brothers 1963 Dodge Dart while he was on a mission. When the starter went out I learned how to get under the hood and use a wrench to connect the points while pulling the gas line with the other hand and get it started. Some hot guys at youth conference were seriously impressed, which got me thinking I should do more of this stuff. So for the next several years I regularly changed my own oil and brake pads. I gave my car its own tune-up in college, replacing spark plugs (including gapping them) and wires, fuel and air filters, etc. I even changed my own starter once, arms blackened to the elbows in the driveway of my house across the street from BYU campus.

But three years ago I married a guy who, despite having an engineering degree and a meticulous mind, just doesn't do work on his own car. Instead he prefers to have a new-ish car that has things like a "diagnostic computer" and an engine full of ridiculous amounts of wires and parts that requires professional maintenance. Within 6 months of our wedding he replaced my "much-loved" (totally falling-apart) 1987 Subaru with a shiny red 1999 Outback. Bless him. Since then I've brought my car to Oil Can Henry's when it needs a change. I have bought 4 brand new tires simultaneously (instead of one at a time, used). My car has mysteriously not needed any major work since we bought it (how is this possible? My last car needed something every couple months).

Two days ago I had to replace my windshield wiper. I went into the auto parts store and, much to my embarrassment, I couldn't remember the first thing about how to find the right one or even get them on and off my car. I stood there for some time trying to jog my memory. Eventually I had to go up to the counter and ask for help, and an employee did it all for me (a girl, mind you, much younger than me). I wanted to tell them all about my past mechanical know-how, and how it was really cool, for a girl, to know how to do all that stuff. I wanted to say, "I know I seem retarded right now, but I am really actually totally smart and mechanically-abled. I totally know how to work on a car. Or, er, at least I used to." But of course I didn't say that, and they all just thought I was a dumb, helpless, yuppie mom. Which, I guess, I am.

(p.s. the pictures are a catalogue of all the cars I've driven in my lifetime: 1967 Dodge Van, 1963 Dodge Dart, 1981 Honda Accord, 1987 Subaru Wagon, 1999 Subaru Outback)