Let's talk about horsepower...

One of my biggest pet peeves in life is when the general public assumes I know nothing about cars because I am female.  I was racing at the track before I had a driver's license.  Before I can explain my love of horsepower, perhaps I need to tell the story of how I learned to turn wrenches.  

Growing up I was a total tomboy.  I know, you're shocked to read that, considering I still am.  I played with GI Joe and Transformers long before I started up a game of house.  In the mornings before school, I would actually get up before my mother so I could watch Optimus Prime kick some Megatron ass.  My relationship with my father has it's complexities, but the majority of the time that I spent with him growing up was in our garage.  That was our quality time, so I started to take notes as I handed different tools to him, and before long I was on a creeper learning what made what work.  My love for FORD grew on a daily basis, and the Mustang soon became an obsession.  I read every magazine, book, or newspaper article I could get my hands on regarding the working man's muscle car.

I take that obsession with me to the track each time, and race like it's the last time I'll ever be behind the wheel.  My driving has changed since becoming a mother; I'm less fearless in my old age.  When challenged to a dyno test that calculated reaction time, I beat everyone in the building that day except for one 65 year old man that built his first car out of a junkyard.  I began to get paid to race, partly for the attention a pink helmet can bring to a stickered out sponsor car, partly for my reaction skills.  Of course, there were a few heated discussions on and off the pavement, but I developed a reputation that preceded my name.  After motherhood, the visits to the track were more to the spectator bleachers than the driver seat, but the knowledge and passion for motor oil lives on.

Consider that knowledge if you do ever decide to talk cars with me; I love a good debate about Ford vs. Chevy.  Nothing irritates me more than visiting a dealership and listening to the ridiculous sales pitch of a man that thinks a car needs more blinker fluid.  When I purchased Jezzebel (an 05 Roush Edition black Mustang) a few months ago, the dealer representative attempted to explain that my car's check engine light was probably just a sensor.  I then asked him if he considered the Bassani exhaust and the 6 O2 sensors, he choked on his coffee.  Then again, this is coming from an individual that couldn't tell my car had full length headers or cold air intake even after popping the hood.  Sigh...

Avoid the stereotypes, do not judge a book by it's cover, and do NOT underestimate a woman.