[ * Hey, hey, there's a new feature for y'all: Cinco de Mayo! * ]

R E : W H Y   G I R L S C A N ' T   D R I V E BY SALLY REARDON [ * Last week, Y.P.R. ran a piece titled WHY GIRLS CAN'T DRIVE, written by the devilishy charming Lisa Grover. Mere hours after Ms. Grover's work was posted, past contributor Sally Reardon e-mailed to express her umbrage regarding Ms. Grover's work. Yes, umbrage. Now, Y.P.R. encourages Ms. Grover to respond to Ms. Reardon, and invites any female readers who drive (or do not drive) to join the fray. Submit something, or just sound off in an e-mail. Y.P.R. loves a good catfight. Meow. * ] Because our gigantic breasts get in the way of the steering wheel. Because cars are built with three side/rearview mirrors providing three distinct visions of how good/bad we look. Because sometimes we see other drivers in other cars and we start thinking about who they are and where they're going. Are they going to visit someone who loves them? Are they lonely? Do they lead sad lives with no one to care for them? We think about these things and can't help but cry for them. Because our gigantic breasts are also uncomfortably restrained by that damn seatbelt. Because it bothers us that you are so distant when we are behind the wheel. Because do I look fat in this Audi? Because what if the car breaks down? What if I get a flat tire? What if I skid or crash or get carjacked or lost? Let's face it: feminism, women's lib, girl power, yadda yadda yadda... I'm still going to have to call you, my boyfriend/brother/dad/mechanic to help me. So you may as well drive anyway, and I'll ride shotgun, controlling the radio till I fall asleep. Okay? Beacuse oh my God, is that a deer? How cute! A cute little, doe-eyed little deer! Because have you looked under the hood? Everything's so filthy and grimy. Yuck. Because this new pair of shoes was not designed for a gas pedal. Nor were my delicate, moisturized hands made for pumping gas. And if you roll down that window just an inch, that's three hours I wasted on my hair. Because boys get early childhood practice with Hot Wheels and Tonka Trucks, while girls only had a Barbie's pink convertible, and in real life, there are many cars on the road that look like boys' toys, but pink convertibles are few and far between. Because girls' brains are not spacially oreinted like boys' are. We do, however, have a much higher capacity for abstract thought and reasoning. I hope you're happy with your big S.U.V., tiger. MORE DAILY PIECES