Estrogen American Technology
Female drivers outnumber males for the first time in the U.S.
Car manufacturers have already addressed the trend with separate, front seat “climate” systems. I'm not sure men like seat warmers though. When Single Guy is driving and asks his girlfriend to slide closer she says, “No thanks, I’ll stay here with my seat warmer because it ‘gets’ me.”
Here are more female-oriented features car manufacturers should consider:
More choices in car colors. Maybe hot pink with a bold block print or a nice Vera Bradley pattern?
For the Artsy set, car changes color when it rains.
Selected phrases screamed when horn is blown such as, “Do NOT start with me, asinine!”
A Navigation system that will never sound like a chick younger than me on a bar stool in Mexico, exhaling a cig as she croons “Turn North on Venturaaaaa....”
Instead, utilize a David Beckham voice which only uses “right” and “left” driving instructions and calls me “love.” He’d also talk me off the ledge when my seat belt sensor determines that my blood pressure is dangerously high.
A gas gauge that tells you not just when you should get gas, but when you really, really need gas, you dipstick.
You can tell David Beckham exactly what the mechanic said is wrong with your car and it determines if he’s a condescending scumbag liar.
A wine cooler in the center console that works even when car is off. I don’t want to leave my car running at gymnastics just because I want cold chardonnay. What kind of ozone-eating jerkwad do you think I am?
Ten sets of keys and clickers.
For the Hot Flash set—a retractable hose that one can direct down one’s shirt.
Sensor that will give little feet a shock if rested on the dashboard.
Window that can be raised to block juice boxes thrown from back seat.
Back doors won’t open unless all the crap is off the floor.
A “Vroomba,” that wanders all over one’s car vacuuming. It realizes the difference between Cheerios and Legos, storing the latter in a special compartment.
An alert when I come within a hundred yards of that judgey, tee-totaling PTA mom or someone selling wrapping paper.
If this journalism thing doesn’t work out, I’ll be in Detroit reviving the nation’s car industry and accepting the Nobel Prize on behalf of Estrogen Americans everywhere.