Bad Ass Girls and Bad Ass Cars

I have had a thing for cars since I was in middle school. I guess you would say I do not look "the type" but I love me some car muscle. I love the sound of an engine, the lines, the paint and the thrill that you can get from driving and even just looking at some cars. It doesn't have to be a new car mind you; my car will be a historic vehicle in just 2 years. Made from German stock, she causes talk and I like that. The other day as I was walking out of the grocery store I heard one man say to another "pay up". They proceed to tell me one thought a man owned my car and the other disagreed. I made one guy five bucks richer. Enjoy that Starbucks on my buddy!

I am not sure if it just part of my detail oriented nature or my love of cars, but I pride myself on the knowledge I have, as a woman, about vehicles. So imagine my dismay when I hear my husband say something like, "I don't know, I think its a Chevy". What do you mean "you think". There is a clear difference between Chevy, Ford, and Dodge. Imagine my growing angst when I see the vehicle in question and it is an import! Ahh! I have tried to help him but he is a lost cause.

Little Man, on the other hand gives me hope. Walking through the parking lot the other day a car passes us. "Mommy, what kind of car is that?". I explain to Little Man that we just saw a Mitsubishi Eclipse and further note that the convertible version is called a Spyder. He is intrigued. He proceeds to tell me one day he will own a fast red car that will not have a top. My kind of boy when I was a teenager. I am scared, especially if he inherits the love of speed that his Dad had for the cars he could not name.