My Worst Nightmare

I was out all day Monday. (That’s me in the photo before going out.)

In the morning, I did outreach at a Human Sexuality class at Southern Connecticut State University.

After the class, the professor took us out to dine at a local New Haven eatery.

And after dining, I planned to return home. Before starting the car, I called home and discovered that my presence was not required at home as early as I had previously thought, so I had more time to spend out en femme.

I pass a DressBarn on the way home, so I decided to stop and shop.

After shopping at DressBarn, I returned to my car and it won't start! The dashboard lights up, the radio plays, but when I turn the key, all I get is a loud ticking noise.

I have AAA, but I am a little concerned about dealing with AAA en femme.

As I am sitting in my car contemplating my next move and occasionally turning the ignition key to no avail, a small red pickup truck parks next to me just as I am cranking the ignition for the umpteenth time.

Two young fellows get out of the truck. They do not ask me if I needed help. Instead the driver walks to the front of my car and signals to me to pop the hood.

I gladly do so and the two of them poke around the engine compartment, but do not find anything amiss.

I have a set of jumper cables, so we tried jump starting the car, but that does not work.

Since my car has a manual transmission, they suggested rolling the car and popping the clutch to start it. (I had not done that in years and had completely forgotten that trick.)

So they gave my car a little push. The car started rolling across the parking lot and I am trying to pop the clutch, but I am not getting the job done.

Just as I am about to run out of parking lot, I remember that I have to pop it into second gear, not first gear, and as soon as I did, the car started.

I waved my hand out the window to my two "good Samaritans" and headed straight home with my fingers crossed that nothing else would go wrong with my car.

I made it home without issue. This morning, I popped the clutch again to start the car and drove it to my dealer to get it fixed (my car needed a new battery).

I always worried about having car problems when en femme. I thought it could be the worst thing that could happen. Now I am not so sure.

Maybe it is better to be a woman than a man when car problems strike. Would those two fellows be so quick to come to the rescue of a tall middle-aged guy as they were to come to the rescue of a leggy middle-aged blond?

I don't know and I am not anxious to find out again.

(Notary Sojac: This is a redo of a 4-year-old post.)

Wearing Madeleine.

Professional femulator James Ross and son