There is a car parked outside the village shop, identical to my late, lamented Silver Bullet. Granted, the Green Goddess is in a considerably better state than her predecessor, but there are still twinges of nostalgia. The notice in the window of the car describes its legal condition and price and adds a single, simple phrase, guaranteed to make you think that this is a trustworthy vehicle.
‘One lady owner.’
The immediate assumption is that here is a car that has been well maintained and gently driven. It is a phrase we are conditioned to accept as a reassurance of reliability. We do not think twice about it… the car, should you be looking for something of that nature, is definitely worth a look.
Except… that’s the thing. We don’t think about it… we simply accept the implication.
Now, not only have I driven with a good many female drivers…
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