Sally Forth

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Monday, May 5, 2003   |    Fiction

Re: Why Girls Can’t Drive

by Sally Reardon
In re: “Why Girls Can’t Drive” by Lisa Grover.

Because our gigantic breasts get in the way of the steering wheel.

Because cars are built with three side/rearview mirrors providing three distinct visions of how good/bad we look.

Because sometimes we see other drivers in other cars and we start thinking about who they are and where they’re going. Are they going to visit someone who loves them? Are they lonely? Do they lead sad lives with no one to care for them? We think about these things and can’t help but cry for them.

Because our gigantic breasts are also uncomfortably restrained by that damn seatbelt.

Because it bothers us that you are so distant when we are behind the wheel.

Because do I look fat in this Audi?

Because what if the car breaks down? What if I get a flat tire? What if I skid or crash or get carjacked or lost? Let’s face it: feminism, women’s lib, girl power, yadda yadda yadda… I’m still going to have to call you, my boyfriend/brother/dad/mechanic to help me. So you may as well drive anyway, and I’ll ride shotgun, controlling the radio till I fall asleep. Okay?

Because oh my God, is that a deer? How cute! A cute little, doe-eyed little deer!

Because have you looked under the hood? Everything’s so filthy and grimy. Yuck.

Because this new pair of shoes was not designed for a gas pedal. Nor were my delicate, moisturized hands made for pumping gas. And if you roll down that window just an inch, that’s three hours I wasted on my hair.

Because boys get early childhood practice with Hot Wheels and Tonka Trucks, while girls only had a Barbie’s pink convertible, and in real life, there are many cars on the road that look like boys’ toys, but pink convertibles are few and far between.

Because girls’ brains are not spatially oriented like boys’ are. We do, however, have a much higher capacity for abstract thought and reasoning. I hope you’re happy with your big S.U.V., tiger.

Sally Reardon enjoys her Tae-Bo class and loves Billy Blanks. Not in the way you think she means. She wants to have sex with him. Her life is fairly simple. Everyday, she takes a morning bath. She wets her hair. Wraps a towel round her as she's heading toward the bedroom chair. It's just another day. Slipping into stockings, stepping into shoes. Dipping in the pocket of her raincoat. It's just another day. At the office where the papers grow, she takes a break. Drinks another coffee, she finds it hard to stay awake. It's just another day. Doo doo doo doo doo doo. It's just another day. Sally comes from Nashua, New Hampshire, and currently resides in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.