Lawn Tractors & Triumph

I often hear women say they feel dismissed in hardware stores, automotive stores or places that are traditionally ‘men’s’ territory. I get it. I’ve been there. I hang out at these places a LOT. I love working on my house, rebuilding my deck, changing outlets, and I can verify there is one huge difference that impacts how I’m regarded in these spaces. 

It’s the clothes.

Get yourself a pair of dickies-the overalls with the blue and white stripes and the loop for your hammer. Better yet, get yourself a hammer with your name engraved on the side (Thanks, Raneen!) and keep it hanging at your side when you’re acting casual and looking sly at the Depot.

I recently had an incident which would have gone totally differently had I worn my beloved ‘ralls. I purchased two riding lawn mowers at a greenhouse auction, one Murray with a mowing deck, one Cub Cadet without. The Murray only ran if the owner sprayed it with butane and jumpstarted it, which I’m told is a good indication that the carburetor needed cleaning. With a huge yard and sweltering Virginia heat, I really wanted it running. 

Following instructions from my favorite small motor influencer on youtube, I pulled the carburetor out with great triumph. However, it was totally sealed and I wasn’t able to actually open it to clean it. With a new carburetor on the way from Amazon, a mobile mechanic came over to work on the tractor. 

What followed was a barrage of insulting comments from him, towards me, my beloved tractors and virtually everything else. He finally handed me a magnet and said, “Give me a call when you have something that isn’t junk to work on.” I asked what I owed him for the trip out and he snorted, “I won’t add insult to injury.” 

He was flat out mean. 

Shortly after, the new carburetor was delivered. With surprising ease, I replaced the carburetor, popped in a new battery and drove the shit out of my adorable, toy-story looking tractor! Had I been a dude, I’m not sure if the mechanic would have had a better attitude. If I’d worn my dickies, maybe he would have viewed me as a peer, than a pitiful woman surrounded by tractor parts broken dreams of a fully mowed lawn.

In the end, I’m delighted he drove off in a cloud of scorn. It saved me some cash, and I feel like a true bad ass that I can add ‘replaced carburetor’ to my list of triumphs.

Overalls that command respect