Previous Nerd

J- was so cool, I couldn't believe she and I were walking down the street together. But there we went, small college town in Kansas, summer of 1990, the tall, slim, kinky-haired, scholarship-studded junior and me, a dork.

We were both living around campus for the month and had walked into town for something. She had her camera with her because she wanted to take a photo of a car on a used car lot. She said it was funny.

On the way back, we stopped by the lot, just a quarter-acre of grass and asphalt stalled next to the sidewalk with fading Hondas and Fords in short rows. As J- looked for the right car, we passed a white sedan, and a man in rolled-up shirtsleeves stood up from a crouch on the far side of the car. He had a bottle of White-Out in one hand, the little brush in the other, and a hangdog expression on his face.

J- imperiously ignored him and headed for the vehicle she had in mind. Across its windshield, in that soapy white paint that announces the merits of, or glosses the flaws of, used cars was written: PREVIOUS LADY OWNED CAR $4500

I laughed at the lack of a hyphen until I realized she was laughing at the sexism. Then I laughed at both and wondered when I would be as cool as J-.