I’m afraid that if I start my car it’ll explode…

Girls driving cars..

Owning a car= having car problems. There is no way around it.

Over the course of the winter, both W and G have been plagued with car troubles. From pointless windshield wipers to “I may have just been rallying in the Cutloose* and drove in and over a snowbank; I was able to back out alright but the car started to smell like it was on fire…” (actual text sent from W to G), shit happens to cars.

The downfall to being a girl is the inability (well, at least for most of us) to understand exactly what is wrong with your car, and more importantly how to fix it. First case in point: Car jumping.

W, who mind you “always” has her shit together, accidently left the dome light in the Cutloose on while away for two days on a ski vacation. That left W, G, and a pair of jumper cables at 9 p.m. to resolve the problem. Following conversation went approximately as follows:

G: “So just because I have jumper cables in my car doesn’t mean I have any idea what do with them.”

W: “It’ll buff out.”

G: “Surely to god we can figure this out. I am NOT calling a man.”

The thing about jumping one’s car is, it should be, and is, a very simple task. The problem arises in that previously when either W or G was in the situation where they needed their car jumped there was always a man around to connect the cables to the right spot at the right time.

So when we were left with a set of jumper cables, very limited directions on how exactly to use them, and the sinking feeling of having to contact a man for help, we did what any well-to-do-stand-up-citizen would do. Guessed.

G: “Is my car going to explode?”

Now, to be totally honest, after asking G’s girl roommate who was also clueless to the car jumping art for help, we did call a guy (I would like to point out that neither of us have slept with this person) for clarification on where the negative end of the cables should be placed on the car. Its people helping people right?

Result: The Cutloose was successfully brought back to life and no cars were exploded in the process.

Gnar Pointers suggest the “buff out” to all things car related:

The Check Oil Light is on. That’ll buff out.

The front license plate ripped off and the passenger side headlight cracked after the first attempt at taking on a snowbank: That’ll buff out.

Ran over a large bird on the way to work and the side mirror is shaking precariously: That’ll buff out (which it in fact did, all over the side of the highway).

The ash tray fell out, the power button to the radio had to be glued in place, the antenna snapped off, wiper fluid only squirts out the drivers side, and the side compartment on the drivers side door has filled with brown water as a result of snow gathering then melting..

It’ll all buff out.

W plans to drive the Cutloose into the ground, which may take years as the Beast refuses to die, or put it up for sale in the near future.**

*For clarification, the Cutloose is one of many nicknames assigned to W’s gem of a car, the infamous ‘94 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. It has also been coined The Beast and The Lead Sled. All fitting titles.

** You should seriously consider buying this car. Not only will its stylish body and appealing brown interior be the envy of all your friends, but slap a good pair of tires on this beast and reve that V8 engine and you’re good to go just about anywhere–as long as there are no tall rocks, ditches, or impending snow banks to tackle (but hey, a lift kit may be able to fix that while increasing the car’s sex appeal.) Not sold just yet? Currently, the Cutloose has less than 140,000 miles on it. Slightly better care than what W affords, it means you could easily double that mileage. On a good day it gets 20+ miles to the gallon, the heat and air conditioning  work great 95% of the time, and last year it had 400+$ of engine work done. Come on’ this is American Engineering at its finest.


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