On Monday morning I parked my car as usual. A few seconds later, a black A8 Audi pulled alongside. A middle-aged business man and his teenage son got out. The man made an admiring comment about my car. That in itself was lovely, but the next sentence stopped me.

“You are very lucky to drive a car like that.” I believe there is an old Amish saying, attributed to Thomas Jefferson, “the harder I work the luckier I am.”


Am I lucky? I suppose I am. My parents immigrated to Australia, allowing me education free of political meddling. My work experience was never marred by my father’s anti-communist rants. I grew up knowing that my chosen career was only restricted by my ability, not my gender. On the flip side, luck has little do with my choice of car. It is more to do with taking on the cost and being able to afford it. We all make choices in life. This is mine, and I do not regret it for a moment.


On the lighter side, a friend sent me a feel-good message not so long ago: girls that like cars and racing are not weird. They are a rare gift from God.

Girls who like cars