As a kid, I was never into cars.

Sure, I loved tinkering, taking things apart, seeing how they worked, putting them back together. I could spend hours fiddling with watches or computers or the ancient light board that sat backstage at my high school. (Yup: theatre nerd.)

Given those tendencies, you’d think that cars would’ve been a playground, especially for a boy who grew up in semi-rural Mississippi, surrounded by trucks, tractors, and four-wheelers. But no, if it had an engine, it was a complete turn-off.

The problem? I didn’t like garages. Not one tiny bit.

It wasn’t the tools or the grime or the smell that I hated, but the mechanics. Good ol’ boys, like my father, every last one, secretly terrified of difference or change. I heard their snide comments about other men who came in for service, wealthy men or poor men or effeminate men. I also heard their remarks about women and saw the racy calendars in their offices. I didn’t like their displays of misogyny any more than I liked their obvious racism or homophobia. I wasn’t like them, and I knew it. They probably knew it, too.

Things have improved a little with time, but I’ve still got a 50/50 shot of dealing with a good ol’ boy every time I walk into a garage. It’s funny/weird/sad how misogyny is usually called out and ridiculed when it rears its head in pop culture, but not so much in the auto shop.

To prove that point, I heartily recommend reading Jason Torchinsky’s brilliant post entitled “Why Are All ‘Girls Working On Cars’ Photos So Freaking Terrible?“, which takes a laughing look at the subtle and not-so-subtle exampled of misogyny at work in stock photography. And when you’re done, check out this article and this one about the challenges that today’s female mechanics face. They’re eye-opening.