From Chazz Palmentieri's "A Bronx Tale":
"Alright, listen to me. You pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in: dump her."
"Just like that?"
"Listen to me, kid. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, that means she's a selfish broad and all you're seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast."
The Door Test is a brilliant exercise to judge the relative selfishness of broads one encounters. It's very simple, in that you don't really have to administer a test - you just unlock the door, walk slowly around the back, and wait for truth to emerge. There's no subjectivity either. The Door Test is 1/0, Pass/Fail, Keep/Dump. It's better than evaluating door-opening in a non-automotive context, because there are no confounds like issues of chivalry, or the risk of pedestrian traffic jams. The lock button is judge and jury, presiding over the Door Test like a Roman emperor watching gladiators, indicating a broad's success or failure with a mechanical "thumbs-up" or "thumbs-down."
A female acquaintance of mine recently failed the Door test four times, over a two-day span. One or even two such failures might be understandable, but four indicates a certain lack of empathy. It won't change the way I relate to said acquaintance, probably, but it's somewhat disheartening to learn what sort of broad a girl truly is. In contrast, Miss Fitzpadrick passed the Door Test with flying colors, leaning over to unlock the driver's door before her own door was even shut. Huzzah, Miss Fitzpadrick, huzzah.
I wonder if technology will soon render the Door Test obsolete. My own car lacks the power door locks so omnipresent on today's horseless carriages, but other vehicles are becoming too modern for the Door Test. Does Mr. Lexus C-Class even notice that his ultra-convenient remote-keypad door-unlocker is, in effect, destroying his car's selfish-broad-detecting capabilities?
It may be past the heyday of the Door Test, but I plan to keep utilizing it as long as I can to separate the broad wheat from the broad chaff. And when the last manual door locks disappear, and we're all riding in hovercrafts with robot chauffeurs, I will shed a brief tear for the Door Test, and move onto the only possible remaining system of broad evaluation: whether or not she'll put out.