Prejudice

Everyone pretends they're not prejudiced. Myself included. Yet we are all a jumble of life experiences, family history and whatever else has jaded our minds.

Here's how honest I'm willing to be. I think women are smarter than men. In a jam, I will pick a woman EVERY time to get me out of a mess. Or, at least hold my hand through it.

I can honestly say I don't pass judgement based on color. On the other hand, I pass a ton of judgement based on language skills, how someone dresses, the number of tattoos, and if their underwear is showing.

I'm terrified of teenage boys. Especially if they are traveling in a pack. If they are tattooed and showing their ridiculous boxer shorts, I want to run. (Really, I want to grab them by the scruff of their necks and have a serious talk with them but then I remember that I value my life.)

I'm old but I'm learning. I helped to raise a baby who became a teenage boy and is now a full-fledged adult. Often I get out of my car and three little boys -- staying with their grandparents who live across the street -- come running toward me. I adore them. They will all be teenage boys the next time I blink.

And I will start to trust teenage boys again.

Car Memories

Lately, I've been thinking about cars. We're no Michigan, but a lot of our industry in this state started with cars and spun off into various manufacturing. Now we're courting advanced manufacturing -- lots of definitions for that. My last few cars have all been run by a computer in its belly so if that's not advanced, I don't know what is.

Currently I drive a Toyota. Not one that's been recalled but I'll check again tomorrow. I've owned more than my fair share of cars. Sorry to all my union friends but my best cars have been Japan or German models. Change the oil regularly and they run forever.

My first one was second-hand (third? fourth maybe?) and it was a stick shift and great fun. Girlfriends and I used to tool around, listening to the 8-track and singing our lungs out. During which, I was also rolling backwards and restarting the engine because it's hard to carry on a conversation, sing, work all the pedals and primp at the same time. My dad taught me to drive it because the first and only time my mom tried she got a massive headache from screaming "Look Out!" We were in a parking lot.

Before passing driver's ed, which I took in high school, Gary MacPherson used to let me drive his Chevy Nova around the parking lot. I later learned that he did that with lots of girls.

My dad used to have this GTO that all my friends thought was very cool. He thought it was cool too and so the story goes, he got so many tickets that it had to go. That's my memory and I'm sticking to it.

I've never understood people who don't have memories of making out in a car. Were you all born with your own apartment? One of my first memorable kisses was in the back of my dad's truck. Greg Davis planted one on me while his sister (Angel) looked on. We were stuck back there like cattle and she retreated to her own corner.

Keith Taylor had a cool car. Even though I knew my bff had a crush on him, I said yes when he asked me out. (She forgave me.) His brother had a better car -- a Mustang Fastback and we made out in that too. Later my grandfather had a few belts, took a neighborhood kid's bicycle and rammed it into the car. Lesson: God is always watching.

In my memory, Jan always had a different car/truck every six months. They broke down and we didn't care. We didn't have cell phones. It was a friggin' adventure. We also had a few car episodes (oops, didn't see that garage door!)

My most-of-the-time boyfriend in high school (and all-through-college guy) used to take me out in his parent's Honda. Hmmm. Maybe that's why I still lean toward Japanese cars.

Yes, thanks to Facebook, I'm using names now.