Reversing the gender divide. Or not.

This week the reverse light on my car failed. I am a terrible driver. Well, I’m not a complete disaster; I’ve not written off any of my cars (unlike my brother and sister), yet I am still the joke of the family when it comes to driving. Bumps and scrapes are attracted to me... somehow.

The afternoon I passed my test (aged 17 here in the UK), I took my first solo trip to collect my younger brother and sister from school. As I drove up to my sister, I waved and smiled at her surprised face and promptly drove into a wall. True story. I only cracked the licence plate a little, but the tale still resonates at family dinners every now and then. Earlier this month (twenty years later) I decided to drive to the store just a few hours after arriving back from a trip to Atlanta – I’m blaming jet lag for this one – and a lorry was blocking the exit. I reasoned there was room to get around it, just about. The woman who banged on my window to tell me I was about to rip the back door of my car off apparently disagreed. Anyway. I give women drivers a bad rep. I am not good for reducing the gender inequality gap.

Reversing the car is what I hate the most. And now that the light is broken, the chance of something going wrong is multiplied exponentially as: a) if it’s dark, I can’t actually see what’s behind me very well; and b) I am not able to warn other drivers of the danger that is moving backwards. Apparently it is not illegal in the UK to have a broken reverse light. It should probably be illegal for me.

So I went to the store that sells (and fits – let’s not forget I am a failure at female equality) car parts. Three men came to replace the two reverse lights in my car; I must have looked like I needed extra special help. After replacing a bulb in each tail light, they ask me to put the car in reverse so they can check the lights are now working.

Turns out my car only has a reverse light on one side and one guy had wasted his time. I told you I was special. But still the light wasn’t working. The man asked for the manual to check which fuse the light used. Frankly, the fact that I could actually put my hands on the manual was a miracle. The fuse was fine. I was reliably informed it must be the “switch” and the car needed to go to a mechanic. Cue financial panic.

My uncle is a mechanic. But he lives on the other side of the country (and we Brits consider 4 hours a long drive. A very long drive). He reliably informed me it was a cheap part and a 5-minute job, so shouldn’t break the bank. The local mechanic disagreed. He disagreed to such an extent that I am still driving around with no reverse light. Probably not a good time to come to the UK and visit Bath. You have been warned.