Today my "iron steed" made the sound of a dying whale, and I had to go to the auto shop. This place is a psychological test. As soon as you drive into the bay, they look at you like an alien who accidentally landed on a golf course. Master looking at me over his glasses, quipped, "Well, gorgeous, did you drop your lipstick in the carburetor again?" Ha-ha, how original! NOT FUNNY

This whole world is soaked in light chauvinism and the smell of used oil. They tried to explain to me that a "stud near the car’s left nape had loosened" and it would cost as much as an airplane wing. But they didn't know one thing: I was prepared. I Googled the symptoms, watched videos, and now I know exactly what brake pads are. When I calmly asked about disc wear and requested to see the old part, master`s face changed. Sarcasm was replaced by a hint of respect.

Yes, I’m a woman, I love dresses and can cry at a yogurt commercial, but that doesn't mean I can be scammed just because I have a manicure!! OH GOD!! In the end, the repair cost three times less. I drove out of there with a sense of victory. Feminism isn't just about fighting for rights; it’s also about knowing the difference between a filter and a pump and not letting anyone pull the wool over your eyes.