Certainly there were good and bad male drivers too. Yet in most cases their driving didn’t create the same charged atmosphere. It wasn’t that they were especially laid back. In reality, they were probably tense too. Nevertheless, they seemed to be able to separate their tension and who they were in a natural—likely unconscious—way. They could converse and act normally even while focused on the road. As in, that belongs there and this belongs here. Kafuku had no idea where this difference between men and women drivers came from.

Kafuku seldom drew distinctions between men and women in his daily life. Nor was he apt to perceive any difference in ability between the sexes. There were as many women as men in his line of work, and he actually felt more at ease working with women. For the most part, women paid closer attention to details, and they listened well. The only problem occurred when he got in a car and found a woman sitting beside him with her hands on the steering wheel. That he found impossible to ignore. Yet he had never voiced his opinion on the matter to anyone. Somehow the topic seemed inappropriate.

—

Thus when Oba, who ran the garage where he serviced his car, recommended a young woman to be his personal driver, Kafuku looked less than thrilled. Oba smiled at his reaction. Yeah, I know how you feel, the mechanic’s face said.

“But she’s one heck of a driver. I can guarantee that, no problem. Why don’t you meet her and see for yourself?”

“Sure, since you recommend her,” Kafuku said. He needed to hire a driver as quickly as possible, and Oba was someone he trusted. He had known the impish man with hair that bristled like wire for fifteen years. When it came to automobiles, Oba’s word was as good as gold.

“To be on the safe side, I’m going to take a look at your wheel alignment, but assuming that’s okay, you can pick up your car the day after tomorrow at two p.m. Why don’t I ask the girl to come then too, so you can check her out, maybe have her drive you around the neighborhood? You can level with me if you don’t like her. No skin off my nose if you don’t.”

“How old is she?”

“Never got around to asking. But I would guess in her mid-twenties,” Oba said. Then he gave a slight frown. “Like I said, she’s a great driver, but…”

“But?”

“Well, how should I put this, she’s not exactly the congenial type.”

“In what way?”

“She’s brusque, shoots from the hip when she talks, which isn’t often. And she smokes like a chimney,” Oba said. “You’ll see for yourself when you meet her, but she’s not what you’d call cute, either. Almost never smiles, and she’s a bit homely, to be honest.”

“That’s not a problem. I’d feel uncomfortable if she were too pretty, and there could be nasty rumors.”

“Sounds like it might be a good match, then.”