Within an hour of posting yesterday that “Damsels in Distress” ought to let men be the knights in shining armor, my car, Harold, had leaked out all of the power steering fluid that I gave him the day before. I checked my voicemail (when I wasn’t turning with two hands). There was a message from my dad. He knows a guy—a guy who can fix my leak. He was calling to schedule delivering the car to the guy.

When he heard that I was driving a particularly grumpy Harold, my dad insisted that I stop, get a ride to work, and let my husband drive the car to him. After all, I might not be able to make the turns. So, I acquiesced, taking my own advice.

However, after work, my husband picked me up (power steering fluid in hand), took me to my car and instructed me to drive his car home. My knight in shining armor had come to rescue me upon his white horse (or…um, brown SUV). He was rescuing me from the perils that might befall me—the perils that my very first knight in shining armor anticipated. In my mind, I had met the “damsel in distress” quota. Apparently not.

When we got to my car, I grabbed the fluid, popped the hood, opened the reservoir, told my husband not to grab my rear end, and poured in the fluid. Not rocket science. My husband unnecessarily put his hand on the hood. He was annoyed. He chuckles when he’s annoyed (That annoys me.). He indicated that I had pushed him out of the way. He said, “Well, I guess I’ll just hold this hood up for you (it stays up on its own) since I don’t have anything else to do.”

Sigh. All this talk about not disrupting the chivalry and I can’t even back out of my own husband’s way.

I must say, though, that I am a very privileged girl to have so many knights to come to my rescue!