Dear Click and Clack,
Take notes. This is how we deal with car trouble Tapper-style.
Short of life and death health problems and those super sticky family dramas is there anything more stressful than a car that breaks down?
Because it never picks that one day a month when my hair is shiny and my skin is clear and my skinny (that's a relative term) jeans fit.
No. Cars are alive.
Alive enough to sense when we are nearing a mental overload and they save their real whoppers for the moments when we are teetering on the edge.
Days when our children act like this in a store when all we needed to do was buy safety pins.
I know it looks like the Dancer just got done dancing. What really happened was I lost the you-can't-wear-your-tutu-to-the-store fight.
Days when it is melt-your-skin-off hot outside and the little ones just have to get to a party because there is a face painter coming.
That's when you get into your fancy hybrid car (please tell me that you know I'm not serious about my car being fancy) with it's fancy hybrid system screen and you see everything lit up like a fancy Christmas tree.
I mean, this car did everything short of announcing that it would blow up momentarily.
This is how I, as a woman, interpret this screen.
P.S. Your main engine is about to explode!
Kaboom! So do you put the crazy children in the exploding car to get them to the face painter?
Or, do you sit in the 97 degree parking lot and cry?
Well, if you do it Tapper style you strap them in, mutter a plea for mercy in case any traffic angels are within earshot and go see the face painter.
Who says women are the weaker sex?