17 Gas Stations 

The question is,  why won’t men stop to ask directions?

The answer may be in John Gray’s well-known book Men are From Mars,  Women are From Venus.   Or in another fascinating book on gender differences entitled You Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation by Deborah Tannen.

Tannen,  a linguistics professor, coined the word  “genderlect”  to describe the cultural differences in men and women that are reflected in the differing ways they think and converse – in personal relationships as well as in public discourse.

Years ago I heard Tannen interviewed and she spoke of the male aversion to asking directions.  She told us when her own mother read the book she said to Tannen  “I thought it was just your father!”

An incident that’s become legend in my family happened on a road trip we took when I was a kid.  Although in those days we used maps and AAA Trip Tiks (remember those wonderful things?),   nevertheless that day we were lost.

“Stop at the next gas station and ask directions.”   my mother instructed my father who was driving.   He refused,  and so she started counting aloud.

After passing 17 gas stations my dad finally relented.  My mom talked about those 17 gas stations for years.

By the way I’ve heard that women ask directions even if they know the way –  we just like to be reassured.  Sounds right,  doesn’t it?

– Dana Susan Lehrman

My father had just traded in his early ’50s Cadillac for a brand new 1960 Chrysler Imperial, like the beauty in the featured image.
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Smash-Up

I must confess I’m not the best of drivers. (See  Life is a Highway,  Fender Bender,  and  Rainy Night on the Highway)

But for years I drove to work,  and so the odds were good that I’d have a few smash-ups along the way.

I remember one mishap when Danny and I were newly married and I was driving home from work and bumped –  very gently I thought –  into the car ahead of me.

After exchanging insurance information with the other driver I realized that despite some serious looking front-end damage the car was drivable.

By chance I was a few blocks from the Audi dealership where we’d bought the car,  and so I drove there and sought out Vic who’d been our salesman.   I told him about the accident  and threw myself at his mercy.   “I dread telling my husband what happened,  would you please call him and break the news?”  I implored.

Vic agreed,  and when he got Danny on the phone I heard him say,  “First let me tell you the good news –  your wife got out without a scratch.”

What a smart salesman,  that guy Vic!   I’ve been using his opening line to break fender bender news to my husband ever since.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Sally gallantly offered that I could take the MG, but I wouldn’t consider it—far too untrustworthy to risk taking over the bridge.
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After buying our first used car, a 1960 Dodge Dart with push button transmission, we learned the value of having a good mechanic.
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“Tell me what you read, and I can tell you what you are.” A man said, “I read Spinoza, Shakespeare, Plato and Kant.”
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Antofagasta is a northern port city in Chile.
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I liked the old fisherman from the beginning.  He sits comfortably on a body-contoured stump, exuding patience and serenity, lightly holding his fishing pole.  His jug is alongside (maybe for fish storage, maybe for refreshment). He wears leather strapped sandals, a broad sun hat, and a flowing green and blue robe.  His white beard and hair suggest the wisdom of age. He is contemplative, certainly in no hurry.  He may be surprised that his serenity has been interrupted by the arrival of the fish. 
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