Self-reliance is not a dirty word.

the battleaxe, post deer.

My parents raised an independent woman. I have never needed another person to feel complete. I don't need a guy to lift heavy things for me, don't need a guy to carry groceries up ten flights of stairs.. you know what I'm saying. I can go into an auto parts store and buy an oil filter and know what I'm doing and what I'm talking about. It still astounds me that the few times I've brought my car to a dealership or garage for an oil change that they STILL try to tell me "Well, while we were inspecting we found something wrong with your car that's gonna make it blow up if you don't give us an additional.... $700 to the $25 you were going to pay for your oil change." And you know what? Eighty percent of the time, IT'S BULLSHIT. Part of the reason I hate going to garages or auto parts stores is just because I have a vagina, everyone in those places seems to think that I'm an idiot and I'll listen to anything they say.

"Oh, oh really? What part is that exactly?"
"Well, it's the filter that's attached to somepartthathasnothingtodowithexplosionsatall..."
"I'm good. Thanks. If my car explodes on my way home, I'll know you were right."

And you know what? IT NEVER HAS. And that conversation has actually happened.

That rant was nice, but was not my point. Here's where I'm about to blow your mind: two weekends ago, I learned how to change the oil in my car. And the turn signal in my tail light.

Now, to most it may not be a big deal. Climb under, pop the plug, dump some oil, dump more in, right? For me, the girl who has had to change headlight bulbs in my BOYFRIENDS' car (in high school), not knowing how to change my oil kinda bugged me. Seemed easy enough. I was forced into doing it myself because a couple of weeks ago, my dad (who usually does it) had surgery to repair a bulging disc between his fourth and fifth vertebrae and has been in a neck collar for the past two weeks not able to do much. I asked him if he could verbally tell me what to do, and he was like "Well, yeah..." Why not.

Saturday morning, still in a bit of a haze from Friday night, I got up, popped a couple of aspirin, and we were off to dump off the waste oil we already had at the house. Getting the bottles of oil, we headed to the waste oil recycling station, which was basically a huge tank with a lidded box attached to it that you get to by climbing a little flight of stairs and standing on this platform. The first issue that I had with it was getting the lid of the box open. Now, I'm not tall. I'm about 5'5", and was wearing boots with about a one-inch heel on them. What I couldn't figure out about this lid was whether I was just supposed to throw it open, or if it would stop at some point. There I am on this platform, standing on the tray under the lidded box (that's full of oil dry), opening the lid to this thing. Well, it stopped, so that was settled. I dumped off the oil, closed the lid and we were on our way.

Got home and was tasked with putting on my dad's really classy cover-alls. Hey, it's Wisconsin, and we were outside, so of course I'd need something like that. We put the car (the battleaxe, as I call it) up on ramps, put out the cardboard, got to work. My dad stands and tells me what to do while I crawl under the car, trying to figure out what I'm looking for and then working to get the plug out with the 15 millimeter wrench. This is about the only point where I got girly. I'm under the car, spinning the plug, making the stupidest, screamiest noises you will probably ever hear.

"You're gonna get some oil on you!" I heard from in front of the car, which just made me laugh and scream more.
"AAAAHHH! OH JESUS!" I was nervous after seeing so many movies with people winding up with mouthfuls of oil in half-cocked oil change schemes.
"You better not be getting oil all over the goddamned driveway!"
"Hey old man, it's all good. I was just being a drama queen."

Once I got the plug out and got the oil pan positioned to catch efficiently, it didn't take long. Filled the pan, put the plug back in, picked up the cardboard, dumped the oil, put new oil in, NO BIG DEAL. I felt good about it! I had learned how to do something new, hung out with my dad, and it was just a good experience.

Now, having to rip basically the rear quarter panel apart on my car to pull out the taillight to change a couple of lightbulbs was just a pain in the ass, but that doesn't need a drawn out story. After this weekend, all I can say is this: girls everywhere, learn how to change your own oil. You'll be glad you did - and glad you were self-reliant enough to do so.