She rolls her eyes long-sufferingly, and brushes past him. She'd really like to know what he means by not having her drive like a girl, since that's what she is, but leaves it alone. Knowing Gene, she probably doesn't want to know.

She swings herself down into the drivers seat, taking care to keep her knees together. Maybe wearing a dress wasn't such a great idea.

"Not sure how I feel, bein' on this side of the teaching experience," she mumbles offhandedly, searching for a seatbelt where they'd be in modern vehicles -- beside the seat, behind the door.