A twelve-step program for those who hate pantyhose (and Your June Dare)

Cynthia and her beloved Bonfire, Azusa, CA 1985

At 5:00 pm, I raced out the front door of my workplace and flew into my car for the commute to the barn via the I-210 packed freeway. It was September 1984, and having recently graduated from college, I was living in Pasadena, CA. The plan was to meet my barn friends for some much-needed riding time in Azusa.

Traffic was stop-and-go, more stop than go. It was still well over 90 degrees F as I drove my 1976 un-air-conditioned 4-speed Honda Civic. This would not do. My riding clothes sat in the back seat, almost mocking me. Why couldn’t I use these wasted freeway moments to make myself more comfortable and escape the confines of my pantyhose?

Traffic was now fully stopped: Putting the car in neutral, I leaned back over my seat, and reached for my bag.

>HONK!!!<

Looking forward, I noticed a small space between the rear bumper of the car in front of me and my front bumper. Sitting back down with a sigh, I put my car in first gear and inched forward.

Stopped again. Let’s give this another go. I reach back for the bag, my fingers grazing the handle, and once again: HONK!

Sitting back down, I curse myself. Why had I put this stupid bag in the back seat?

OK, one last try. Put the car in neutral, stretch back just a bit further, and >HONK!<

But this time, I hooked the bag with my index finger. Using every muscle in my fingers, I hurl the bag forward and onto the passenger seat while returning to the driver’s seat. Why would three feet of empty space on a packed freeway matter so much to the impatient driver behind me?

Never mind. Now it was time to get out of these dreaded pantyhose in 12 simple steps:

Step 1: Get rid of the shoes.

Step 2: At the next stop, put the car in neutral, one foot on the brake, and slide the pantyhose waistband down toward my knees. Back in gear, inch forward.

Step 3: At the next stop, put the car in neutral, one foot on the brake, and pull one leg out of the dreaded pantyhose.

Step 4: Repeat step 3 for the other leg and toss the pantyhose on top of the shoes. Woohoo, freedom!

Step 5: Left hand on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, with the right hand, rifle through the bag on the passenger seat for the jodhpurs. When you find them, pull them out and place them on top of the bag.

Step 6: Next stop: bring the jodhpurs over to your lap and step the right foot into the right leg. Pull up to just below the knee.

Step 7: Next stop: do the same for the left foot.

Step 8: Next stop: unzip the skirt and pull the jodhpurs all the way up. Slide the skirt down over the jodhpurs and throw it on the passenger seat. Snap and zip the jodhpurs.

Halfway there, don’t stop now!

Step 9: Rifle through the bag for your T-shirt and grab it, while keeping your eyes on the road.

Step 10: This is the riskier bit: At the next stop, pull the T-shirt over your head and slide it under the work shirt. It might be necessary to unzip or unbutton the work shirt, depending on the type of shirt you’re wearing.

Step 11: At the next stop, pull the right arm out of your workshirt and into the T-shirt, holding the steering wheel with the left arm. When the right arm is through, do the same for the left arm.

Step 12: At the next stop, pull the T-shirt down over the torso and remove the work shirt, either over the head or to the side, depending on the type of work shirt. Throw it over with the skirt, shoes, and hose on the passenger seat.

Voila!

Such a sense of relief to be out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable.

My first event: dressage, cross-country and jumping!

Looking back on it, I must have been quite a sight for those driving past: clothes flying back and forth, the car stopping for too long, and the radio playing loudly through open windows.

I don’t recommend this quick-change method to anyone, especially if you’re driving a stick. It wasn’t my smartest decision, and I was very lucky to avoid collisions. A better decision would have been to take my riding clothes into the office and change in a restroom before leaving the building. But I was young, headstrong, and determined to do things my way.

But here’s what’s interesting: As I’ve gotten older and wiser, I sometimes find myself hesitating more when making decisions or taking decisive actions. Even little risks, like asking for a refund I’m unlikely to get, or going to a networking event where I don’t know anyone, and making conversation, make me anxious. 

I wonder: has my pendulum swung too far the other way? I miss my more daring self, the half-dressed young woman singing mangled lyrics to the song on the radio as she navigated LA freeway traffic in her beat-up car on a hot September afternoon.

So here’s the dare for June: what’s one thing you might have dared to do in your teens or twenties that you no longer do? Please don’t do anything dangerous or illegal. I definitely won’t be re-attempting the quick-change car trick, but I wonder where I might take a small risk and reconnect with my more adventurous self…

Venice Beach with friends, 1985