by Carrie Coy

Losing a partner is traumatic; losing a
partner who works on your car is worse.

In the volumes of literature on how to
survive the breakup of a relationship, not a
word is devoted to the lesbian who in losing
her lover, also loses her mechanic. The
manuals are silent on how to cope with the
loss of an ex-partner’s know-how and tool-
box. Worse yet, there are no warnings to the
newly independent lesbian on the perils of

popping the hood alone.

Granted, given time, any lesbian will
adjust. She'll either buy her own set of
metric wrenches, cultivate friendship with
a mechanic, learn new skills, or accept her
mechanical ineptitude. In any case, she’ll
know her limits.

But beware of those dangerous months
of transition. Memories of ambitious week-
end projects are still fresh in mind, while
the details of who actually did what have
already blurred.

My final boyfriend and I often worked
on my car together. In fact, bumping heads
together under the hood was one of our
more pleasurable intimate activities. Pre-

Out From Under the

 

.-

dictably, I confused his considerable skills
with my own.

Not long after we parted ways, I set out
to diagnose the source of a misfrring cylin-
der. With the dog-cared shop manual
propped open on the air filter, I futilely
studied the diagrams illustrating the firing
order of the pistons, unable to match the
pictures to my car. The unfortunate affair
ended in a tangle of disconnected spark
plug wires and an emergency house call
from a local garage.

The experience taught me something
that’s stayed with me to this day--I really
don’t like working on cars. They are too
loud and too electrical. The notion that
something can be propelled forward by a
series of small, contained explosions
strikes me as mildly dangerous. At the time,
the realization was profound. Liberation
from responsibility for my car’s innards
was, in retrospect, a kind of ceremonious
spearation form the last vestiges of hetero-
sexuality.

It’s been years since I’ve been conver-
sant in the arcane interests of straight men,
from baseball to, yes, cars. It took an earth-

January 1990

 

quake to realize the World Series was being
played in California. I lift the hood of my
latest car only to jump start it or add wiper
fluid.

A professional woman described simi-
lar thoughts years ago in Ms. magazine.
Stranded roadside when her car broke
down, she cursed her ignorance while wait-
ing for the mechanic to arrive. She braced
herself for anticipated condescension from
the male mechanic and thought wearily of
taking a night school course on car mainte-
nance, a subject which didn’t interest her.
To her surprise, the woman who arrived
was neither condescending nor judgemen-
tal. The problem fixed, both parted happily.

The lesson, she wrote, is that everyone,
man or woman, should be free to excel in
ways that are right for them—-and free to call
for help when they need it, without being
judged incompetent or a “typical woman.”
The woman was not mechanically apt, and
had no desire to be. Far from being a gen-
der-related character flaw, her disinterest
was a natural extension of who she was.

Women are moving with growing

(Continued on page 15)

/9
03;,
J IJJ

 

Pearls 135 Pearl St. Burlington, VT.

M

January 1s a jumprng
MONDAYS are Movie days at Pearls starting at ha py hour
with plenty of popcorn to go with your dri .

TUESDAYS remain our ever popular $1.00 bud night but
now we have hot dogs to go with the buds.

WEDNESDAYS we're pouring hot drinks and baking
pastries.

THURSDAYS are a Mexican happening with frozen marga-
ritas, nachos, wings an

oronna's at $1.75

Other Pearls‘ Dates:
Friday, January 12- Women's Dance No. 62, buffet and dance
5-9pm $5.00

Sunday Afternoon January 21st- Bloody Marys, Mimosas, Bingo
and Prizes

Saturday, January 27th- OLDIES DANCE starting at 7:30 at the
old door charge of $1.00

 

 

   

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