The Power Suit Super Mom

Feeling all manners of testosterone flooding his vessels, he suggested she move from her spot before the shoveled snow turned to ice. The change in her face from pleasant to stern hard brick stone solid anger caught him off guard. She was not happy. He now understood why others feared her. The energy that she had managed to suck out of the room was now erupting hotter than the hottest summer sun he knew.

She asked if he knew who did this to her. He, shakily, nodded. She further clarified by asking him if he had done this wicked bad thing to her. He shook his head. Her faced softened some and asked for the name. He didn’t know the name and wasn’t sure if he should say anything if he knew. The way her eyes probed deeply into the root programming of his soul overwhelmed him. Nothing he could mount as defense managed to shield him.

With great difficulty, he said he knew the description of who had done this to her but would prefer not to say or get involved in grown folks business. He said he’d rather spend his energy helping her get out before he froze than rat anyone out. She leaned forward to get out of the car. He stepped forward unaware that the command to do so had been issued from his brain.

Stammering and stuttering, he tried to come up with the excuse that the snow was still soft and if she got out of her situation, she’d avoid the freeze that was already taking place with the plummeting temperature. Then, he stepped back out of her way and watched as her face twisted in pondering.

Her smile returned for a brief moment, she looked back at her rear tires. The snow was bad. The ice was bad. He had no shovel, she had no shovel. This was not good. Then, with the flick of an eye, her smile and warmth returned. She asked him to step back for safety and she’d give him the pleasure of seeing her maneuver in the snow.

Her eyes were still dagger sharp focused however. As she scanned about the parking lot it became very clear that she was purposely blocked in. The fire beaming from her eyes had accepted the challenge. Behind the snow blocking her exit she was boxed in by two cars. She would have to inch closer to the building and then wiggle her way out around the deep snow on her passenger side before being free.

She rolled her window down and warned the young man that she would have to be very careful wiggling out and didn’t want him to be too close if she had to use the power of her motor.

Wide eye, nervous, he moved behind another car for safety. She started working her way out. But the snow was very deep. It wasn’t long before he could see her body language change from well controlled to nervously near panic. The report from the motor was of increased concern of being trapped in the ice. Before he could close the distance to offer help, the oscillations of the motor had changed. The woman had gone from nervous to flat out determined.

She laid into the pedal with all she could and keep demanding more from the engine. While everything he had been taught to this very moment told him that this was the signs of someone about to break down in tears and not get their car free, he thought he heard a note of defiance in her struggle. She was working a strategy. She was using brute force to clear all the snow from her tires and build up a path for her to exit.

The concept worked. And she made it out. Sure, she spent quite a lot of gas. But she got out. And when she walked him back inside, she explained to him that she had figured who had set her up and that she felt he was smart enough to figure out when payback took place. She also thanked him for being very honorable in his conviction. Then, with a wink, she said she was not going to tell anyone of his special gift, as it would not look good for him… he would later realize that the narrow-mindedness of that particular crowd was to be avoided. A lesson that saved him countless sensitive situations in the future.

He also noted that while he had heard guys in the past (and throughout time) trash their motors in stupor when trying to break free from low traction settings… this lady had a finesse about her. She never completely loss emotional control. She used the full broad spectrum of the rpm band very liberally but very purposefully. The motor never sounded tortured. The V8 purred in response to her commands.

Further, given how tall a heel her boot held, this must have meant she had not only great pedal control, but great agility to flick the pedal as she did. She was in complete control of everything she did. And much like the first moments in the ice, the young man nearly slipped on the way in, and she once again stabilized him. What manner of power did this woman hold that even the elements did not make her falter?