GKIAS

As a small woman, I'm very familiar with Grandfatherly-Know-It-All-Syndrome. I was exposed to it once in a while in DC but here it's endemic; men old enough to be my father or grandfather telling me what to do. I think it's a flip side of Texas niceness, and it's killing me.

I'm sure this common assumption that I'm too little to take care of myself is why I'm stubborn and determined to prove I can do it myself. Whatever "it" is, including lifting heavy things, building Ikea furniture, and filling my own tires. People often try to do those things for me and I usually bite their heads off and call them names. And in DC I found a good ol' "back off, grandpa" got my point across and earned respect.

But people in Texas are nice and I'm trying really hard to be nice too, even though I'm pretty sure the stress of it is shortening my life expectancy. So this morning when I was running and Grandpa called out, "it's too cold to be dressed like that, honey!" I just waved and kept running. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, exercising, and it was 65 degrees. Just because Mr. Native was wearing a wool stocking cap doesn't mean it was empirically cold.

And when I went to the DMV to get my motorcycle license, the guy behind the counter said "You want a motorcycle license?" I gave him my best steely eyed "Yes." "What kind of bike do you want?" "I'm looking at a 125cc scooter." "Ahh! That makes more sense. You, on a motorcycle?" He laughed again at the idea and set me up for the test.

Then Ed and I went to a shop that had both motorcycles and scooters, and after I was done with scooters I joined Ed and the salesman in the motorcycle section. The guy looked at me and said, "I have just the bike for you." He pulled me over to a big Harley and when I sat down I found that I could put my feet down on both sides, which I haven't been able to do with any of the scooters I've seen. "Hey, this fits me pretty well!" The salesman laughed and laughed. "You don't get to ride anything but a Harley, girl." Another salesman poked his friend and they both said "You look good on that bike! Buy it!"

My face turned red and I just about bought it to spite them all.

But then I'd have a Harley, and in spite of the mockery I don't want a motorcycle. I want a scooter. And I'm sure I look like a Scooter Girl. I hate when stereotypes about me come true.