Hi, I’m Jackie.
Before Mechanic Mamma was a business, before I was a training manager, and long before anyone looked to me for answers, I was a young woman trying to convince an industry that I belonged in the room.
I have spent nearly two decades in the diesel and automotive world. I love this work. I love figuring out why something failed, understanding how machines work, getting dirty, solving problems, and teaching someone else the thing that finally makes it click.
But getting here was not easy.
I Wasn’t Exactly Welcomed Into the Trades.
When I started, being a woman in the shop was often treated like a joke. I wasn’t automatically seen as someone who might become a skilled technician. I had to prove that I deserved to be there before I was even given the chance to prove what I could do.
I started in off-road shops doing the grunt work. I turned wrenches. I took the dirty jobs. I learned wherever someone would let me learn. I also climbed into race vehicles as a co-driver, putting myself in situations that demanded trust, nerve, mechanical awareness, and the ability to keep going when things got hard.
Eventually, I made my way from those off-road shops to the world’s largest on-highway diesel engine manufacturer.
And even then, getting through the door wasn’t the same thing as being accepted once I was inside.
I Had to Fight for the Career I Wanted.
I pushed my way toward becoming a journeyman. I learned the engines. I did the work. I kept showing up.
There were incredible moments. There was pride. There was laughter. There was the satisfaction of finally solving the problem everyone had been chasing.
There were also tears.
There was sexual harassment. There were moments when being the woman in the shop seemed to matter more to people than whether I could actually do the job. There were days that hurt. Days I questioned myself. Days I went home angry, embarrassed, exhausted, or determined to come back the next morning and be even better.
So I did.
Again and again.
Then I Became Pregnant.
I remember hearing the words:
“What are we going to do with a pregnant diesel mechanic?”
I was fired.
After fighting so hard to earn a place in that world, pregnancy suddenly made me a problem to solve.
That could have been the end of my career in the trades.
It wasn’t.
Becoming a Mom Changed What Success Had to Mean.
I became a mother, and eventually a single mother. From that point forward, every career decision had another person attached to it.
I still wanted a career. I still wanted to grow. I still wanted to be respected for what I knew and what I could do.
But I also needed to be Mom.
I had to build a career that could keep changing as my daughter’s life changed. School schedules. Childcare. Activities. Sick days. Bills. Opportunities I could take and opportunities I had to turn down. I learned how to keep moving forward while making sure that the career I was building supported our life instead of costing me the parts of motherhood I could never get back.
There was no perfect roadmap for that either.
So, just like I had done in the shop, I figured it out as I went.
I Never Left the Industry That Made Me Fight to Stay.
Over the years my role changed. I went from wrenching and troubleshooting to technical support, leadership, and training. The hands that once did the grunt work became the hands pointing things out to another technician and explaining why something mattered.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something.
The automotive world doesn’t have to be intimidating.
A huge part of the fear people feel around cars comes from the way we communicate about them. We throw around terminology as if everyone should already know it. We sometimes make people feel stupid for asking basic questions. And too many women walk into automotive spaces already expecting to be dismissed, talked down to, or taken advantage of.
I know what it feels like to walk into an automotive space and have people decide what you know before you ever open your mouth.
I don’t want other people to feel that way.
That Is Why Mechanic Mamma Exists.
Mechanic Mamma is a business, but the mission behind it is deeply personal.
I want women to understand enough about their vehicles to feel confident asking questions and making decisions. I want moms to have practical tools and knowledge that make the road a little less intimidating. I want people who don’t know the difference between an alternator and an axle to know that they are still allowed to ask what that noise means.
And I want kids—especially girls—to see tools, engines, shops, and skilled trades as places they are allowed to belong.
I want my daughter to grow up knowing that she never has to force herself into a smaller version of who she is just to make somebody else comfortable.
My Story Isn’t About Proving Women Can Turn Wrenches.
We already can.
My story is about what happens when you keep showing up in places that weren’t built with you in mind—and then, when you finally have the experience and the voice to do something about it, you build something different.
Mechanic Mamma is my something different.
It is everything I learned under hoods, inside engine bays, in race vehicles, in shops, behind desks, in training rooms, and through nearly two decades of having to figure things out.
It is also everything motherhood taught me about preparedness, resilience, responsibility, and finding another way when the original plan doesn’t work.
You Don’t Have to Know Cars. That’s Why I’m Here.
You don’t need the right terminology. You don’t need to pretend you understand something you don’t. You don’t need to apologize for asking a question.
Tell me what you see. Tell me what you hear. Tell me what it feels like.
We’ll start there.
No judgment. No talking over your head. Just practical automotive knowledge from someone who fought hard to earn hers—and believes you deserve access to it too.
— Jackie
Founder, Mechanic Mamma