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Humor, in blog format (you know you wanna rate this...) |
| I'm not what you'd call a car person. I have a basic idea of how my little white piece of crap works, and I'm able to perform minor maintenance procedures in order to keep it running in its usual piss-poor manner. I avoid mechanics at all costs. I hate them. Oh, sure, they have an arsenal of tools which they've been trained to use, and can silence every squeak, pop, thunk, screech, squeal, and whir known to man. I'm not doubting their healing powers. The problem with mechanics is that, each time I visit one, I have to perform an Emmy-worthy onomatapoeic impression of my car's latest illness, after which the mechanic, who knows perfectly well what I'm talking about, will ask me to repeat the description for his own personal amusement. So, despite having a leaky air-conditioner, a broken dimmer switch, and a mysterious thumping noise that seems to originate from the general direction of the trunk, if asked, I will still tell you that my car is running fine. And it is! Because when I press on the gas, it goes forward. And when I press on the brake... well... it usually stops. |
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