The Working Girl Blog #12: Bringing up my seven-year-old, or I don't care how old she is 'coz she's mine To see all of Bobbie's "Working Girl" blogs, click on this link: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/19261/working-girl-blogs

Last Saturday, my best friend came by and treated me out to late lunch, which is always a good thing for me. (My sister says, or used to say, that I had a bottomless pit for a stomach) But it's not just getting together for a bite. She wanted to show off her new car...

In my old company, managers are eligible for the company's car plan. As I mentioned before, I resigned from my old job last December. Nikki didn't and stayed on, and she was in line for a new car this year, which she got a couple of weeks ago.

The way it worked was that the company paid for half the cost of the car, and the balance you pay in equal semi-monthly installments until the balance is fully paid, at which point, you have the option of buying it from the company at a nominal price which can be as low as $500. All in all a great deal. There is a catch, though - you have to return the car if you happen to resign before the payments is completed.

(I availed of the program last year, and got a really wonderful copper-red Mazda 3, which I loved to pieces. But I had to return it as there were at least two more years of payments to go.)

So I come downstairs, and there she was, sitting in her brand-spanking-new BMW 128i. But let's stop talking about her car now 'coz I just might die of envy all over again.

Since I had to return my car, I was reduced (though that's an unfair word to use) to using my seven-year-old one, which I bought long before transition. (My current company's car plan is nothing much more than a facilitated car loan with preferential payment terms. So, yuck.)

I didn't really know much about cars then (actually, I still don't know much now), so when I bought her, my decision points were simple - how much was it, and how did it look.

My seven-year-old is a little 4x4 called a Suzuki Jimny (which was the new line, I think, that took over from the Samurai). The guys in the chatroom know that I call her "Cricket." Hey, it's a Jimny, right? Y'know? Jimny Cricket? Ahhh, never mind...

She's not all that impressive, specs-wise (1300 engine, barely room enough for four people, leaf-spring shocks so you get a bumpy ride), but she was a 4x4, she was cute and she was within my budget.

Jimnys weren't available at the regular Suzuki dealerships, and I saw Cricket as an import from this specialty car dealership at an unbelievable price, and I bought her on the spot. When I got that company car last year, I thought of selling her, but I never really got around to it, which turned out to be a good thing. Maybe deep inside I didn't want to - she was the first ever car I got which I bought myself without anyone's help, and she's been with me since my transition, which, I suppose, is what gives her her sentimental value.

Thing is, when I got her, I didn't really plan for when I would be the way I am now. From the outside, Cricket is as cute as an SUV can be, but it's not really easy to ride as a girl: The bottom is higher than my knee, which anyone knows is hard on someone wearing a skirt especially for someone as short as me, the stick shift’s a little stiff (I didn't get the automatic which had miserable mileage specs), because it was higher off the ground than normal, I couldn't see the front from the driver's side, the pedals are small and so far in that I could barely reach them, and it had a regular three-point seatbelt (meaning it's cabin bracket's mounted near the roof) so my boobs are pinched (though my babies aren't as... substantial as I wanted them to be).

As they say, necessity is the mother of invention, and good thing I was inventive heehee. So over the years, as Cricket and the girl me got to know each other, I discovered ways around these... inconveniences.

First - how to get in. I have a little mind mnemonic that I use when I don't want to flash pedestrians: "Butt first, feet second." That means, I open the door, sit in the seat, and then swivel my butt around and, voila! I'm in.

Second - seeing over the hood: you know those little backrest things with the beads that you see cabdrivers use? It works! Though I covered it with a nice pink flannel otherwise, my back would be covered with little dimples because of the beads. With the flannel, the back's comfortable, and the seat raised my line of sight by at least three inches.

Third - seatbelt: well, I just make sure that the strap rests between my two little babies.

Fourth - stick shift: no real fix there. Except I find that swearing seems to make it easier to put Cricket in gear.

Fifth - the pedals: I push the seat as far forward as I can while still being comfortable. I don't keep them adjusted forward permanently as it would interfere with the "butt first" thing, so I would adjust the seat forward when I get in, and adjust it backward when I get out. And I bought a pair of crocs (yeah, I know. But no one's gonna see 'em anyway, and they're easy to put on) that I would change into when I get in the driver's seat. With the crocs, I can manage the pedals fine.

About the pedals - I do have a new problem, though - strappy heels have become sorta the standard fashion now, and anyone who's had to put on a pair knows how hard it is to put them on - put the shoe against your foot until it's comfortable, wrap the thong around your shin and leg (making sure they're flat instead of twisted), and then knotting them. and then, when putting on the other one, you have to do all that again, with the added difficulty of making sure that the straps are wrapped around your leg in the same pattern of criss-crosses AND are knotted at the same height. I even have to sit on the floor sometimes when I put them on so I can check if the straps and knots match. It's true - women are slaves to fashion.

Now, imagine trying to take them off just to change into your rubber crocs...

But if I get a bee in my bonnet to wear my strappies or my gladiator sandals, I just do my best. Learning to step on the clutch and brake with the ball of your foot is a skill you learn real quick.

But I ain't gettin' rid of Cricket. She's mine and she's given me years of good service, and she's cute. And, what? Get rid of all these hard-won skills?!

Pooh on Nikki's BMW. And If anyone sez different, Cricket n I will run 'em over.

For Bobbie's blogposts, click this link: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/blog/bobbie-c
For Bobbie's stories in BCTS, click this link: http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/14775/roberta-j-cabot