This morning I had to take my car for its yearly inspection.
 
As inevitable as taxes and death, I was the only woman in the lot.

I was the only woman amongst a plethora of husbands, boyfriends and other appendages to scrota testing their cars. 

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I wish I didn''t know the drill; how hard to turn the steering wheel, when to blink right and when left, and where to go to replace some bulb.


In general, I wish I didn''t know the ropes so well about anything.
 
I wish I didn''t know that I have to change the timing belt periodically.
 
 I wish I didn''t know that a car battery lasts about two years and after that every day is a free ride.
 
 I wish I didn''t know the correct tire pressure.
 
I wish I didn''t know that you need different types of dibbles on different walls.
 
I wish I didn''t know that the grounding of the electricity of the apartment is attached to the water pipes.
 
I wish I didn''t know how to negotiate a contract.
 
I wish I didn''t know how to drive so well.
 
I wish I didn''t know where all the government offices are.
 
I wish I didn''t understand the differences between pension funds.
 
You get it. It''s not the knowing. It''s the having to know. 

It''s the bitter sweet independence that overtly makes you stronger, but inwardly leaves you so lonely every time you accomplish one more task on your own. 

At this point everything was supposed to be in place.

I was supposed to be cooking dinner while my husband took the car for its inspection. I was supposed to be planning our next vacation while my husband negotiated a contract. I was supposed to be sinking into deep pile carpets, well, just about all the time. My head was supposed to be filled with other things less associated with testosterone.

But so it goes. 

Truth be told, I''d rather get along on my own than have to depend on the alternatives that I left behind. 

I just wish that somewhere along the line in the last 20 years, I had someone who said, "Never mind, honey. I''ll take care of that."  And really did.
 


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