My cars have always been “hers,” or should I say, for the sake of understanding, females.
She starts to sputter, I pat the dashboard and say “Goo’ girl, Bessie,” or “C’mon, girl.”
She gets me where I want to go and I say, “Atta girl, honey, I knew you could do it.”
Don’t ask what I say when she won’t cooperate. Oooh! What can get me to despair faster than car trouble? Zero to sixty in one second. Argh!
I don’t necessarily talk to my cars otherwise, but they are privvy to a lot: Talking-out-loud life’s problem solving, hot tears not expressed elsewhere, and cussing, although I try not to do it.
And then there are the conversations that I would not get to have outside of her. It’s like saying “Step into my office” as soon as I turn the key. Witness the captive audience conversations I get to have with my son, or the questions I can ask a person that they can’t get away from. Mwahhh hahhh hahhh …
But when I am with “her” I am still technically out in public. So I still have to behave. Those times when I rage inside, at traffic or at goings on in my life, those feelings basically stay hidden.
Unless of course I need to just emit a primal scream. Then, it’s pull over, look around for witnesses, grab the steering wheel, and let ‘er rip!
Then there are computers. My computers are “hims,” male. Never mind what the new movie says.
And that means he’s a witness to everything. Don’t you talk to yours? Grimace and wrinkle your nose at what you’re reading online, express your opinion? Of course he is privvy to every phone conversation. And the comments and faces I make after I hang up.
What if there was a webcam turned on every moment you’re online? What are you wearing? That white T-shirt that’s no longer white? Those worn out sweat pants held up with a pin? What are you saying? What are you picking at? He doesn’t care.
Or does he? Maybe that’s why, every now and then, he just goes into meltdown mode.
After all, there’s only so much that a man can take.
And second only to the despair I have over a car that won’t work, is the frustration I feel when my computer messes up. Oh, yeah!
Fortunately, he can’t hear the threats I make when he quits on me! If he did, he would probably never work again!