MANTALK: Inside a woman’s car…

Inside a woman’s car is enough clutter, knick knacks, things and stuff to keep her alive, clothed and fed if she was lost for three days straight. PHOTO| FILE

What you need to know:

  • There are rules to borrowing a woman’s car. First, don’t open anything with handles, because you are not ready for what will jump out.
  • It could be a starved pet. Or a pink dildo.
  • There’s always an assortment of paraphernalia in there –  perfumes and wet wipes and hair clips and rubber bands and pens and receipts and hand sanitisers.

I borrowed a woman’s car a while back. Borrowing a woman’s car is like driving her whole bedroom. Men, we use our cars for locomotion, but women have discovered that cars can do much, much more than move you from point A to point B: a car can be a rent-free extension of the house. I think women can comfortably live in their vehicles if there ever was an apocalypse because the amount of stuff some women keep in cars is as impressive as it is astounding.

There are two types of women’s cars. The super clean ones feature neatly folded scarves and arranged books and magazines. The windows are clean, the interiors are clean and the boot is uncluttered. The car is so clean you want to wear a polythene bag over your shoes to step in. The carpets are washed studiously. The help wakes up each morning and cleans the car regardless of its state of cleanliness. Dust does not dare touch that car. You will not find a scrap of paper in it. The car I borrowed was so clean, there was a small refuse paper that acted as a bin. I didn’t have the guts to look into that bin for fear of finding, I don’t know, chicken bones? Hair?

Then there is the other kind of women’s car, with a backseat that looks like a kiosk. There are cartons and gym bags and a laptop bag, assorted hangers, a lunch box, fliers, old electricity bills, stockings, a stuffed toy, a baby car seat (and sometimes a bewildered baby on it), half-drunk bottle of water, an old diary, mouth wash, stress ball, stale fruit with bite-marks on it. Sometimes, if you rummage through this clutter, you might just unearth a four-burner gas cooker. A woman with a car like that is a dangerous woman because one day she will leave the house and never come back, given that all she needs to survive is in that car (including chevra and mabuyu and a hidden oxygen tank in case of a chemical bomb).

SHOES EVERYWHERE

Often, when I’m in a meeting and there is a smartly dressed woman speaking eloquently and intelligently, my mind leaves the room and floats into her car as I wonder what their backseat looks like, and if there is germination happening in there somewhere.

But what you almost always find in a woman’s car are shoes. Lots and lots of shoes; shoes under every seat and in the boot. Shoes everywhere. You wonder just how many shoes one woman can own before it starts becoming hazardous. There are heels and sandals, slip-ons, and open-toes, suede and leather, evening shoes and shoes for the office. They have shoes for driving, flat and comfortable. When you see an accident on the road involving a female motorist, always check out the shoes they are wearing. They will be completely mismatched with their attire. Driving shoes. When a car thief steals a woman’s car, they are getting more than just a car; they are getting shoes and – quite possibly – a blender. Car thieves should steal women’s cars purely to start a secondhand shoe shop. It’s a great business idea. You are welcome.

There are rules to borrowing a woman’s car. First, don’t open anything with handles, because you are not ready for what will jump out. It could be a starved pet. Or a pink dildo. There’s always an assortment of in there –  perfumes and wet wipes and hair clips and rubber bands and pens and receipts and hand sanitisers. There are also these make-up kits that look like miniature watercolour sets. What’s missing is a sink with running water. Nothing can prepare you for what comes out, so don’t. Restrict yourself to touching the indicator and the door handle.

MOSTLY SMELLS GOOD

A woman’s car mostly smells good. Their cars smell better than ours. Most men’s cars smell of feet. Women’s cars smell of perfume and their smell. Sometimes, if you borrow a peckish woman’s car, it will smell of samosas. Meat samosas, to be precise. Because what use is eating a samosa if you are going to eat a veggie samosa? You’d rather eat lentils. Most women’s cars are better maintained than our cars because they never run over bumps, or potholes or reverse into walls when drunk.

Also, try not to borrow a married woman’s car because it’s common sense – unless she’s your sister or cousin.

Most importantly, there is a way the shape of a woman’s bottom moulds itself onto her seat, such that when you ease into it, you can feel the slight depression of the seat and the shape of her buttocks on it. It’s like a gazelle placing its paw in the footprint of a buffalo’s… unless you are those men with big buttocks in which case I will stop this article right here.