On Saturday I took my car in for its annual inspection. My 1999 Ford Escort (picture looks a lot like it, doesn't it?) may not be flashy or even big enough for giant ass, but it's a pretty reliable vehicle. I wasn't expecting any troubles, but I should have known better. My car failed the inspection.
I was in the mechanic's waiting room, which looked like a white trash version of a doctor's office. This was a Kittanning mechanic, so trucker magazines were littered all over the place while the LSU/Kentucky game played on an outdated TV. As you can imagine, I was bored (again, I'm not gay). I'd been here before, so I knew what to expect and came prepared. Nothing makes me fit in better at a car repair shop like reading Southern Reconstruction magazine articles.
The mechanic came in, glared at my copy of "The Goophered Grapevine," and then told me about the failings of my car. As usual, I had no idea what he was talking about:
"Well son, your trilithium resonator has been completely fried. Your flux capacitor is rusted through. I think you may need a new Heisenberg compensator, and your photonic resonance scanner is totally shot."
Really, the guy could tell me that I have too much caramel floating in my chocolate engine, and I'd probably buy it. I had remembered that he said something about cords being exposed on my tires. Well, my technologically feeble brain interpreted "cords" as "wires," so when I got home, my dad asked me what was wrong with the car, and I said, "Well, I guess there are some wires sticking out of my tires."
This is why I avoid heavy machinery regardless of whether I take cold medication.
Anyway, after the mechanic gave me his car diagnosis, I just stared at him blankly and said, "So what to do I do about all that?" He honestly said, "You fix it." Here's my sign. So I made a new appointment for today, and I guess it's going to be fixed by this afternoon. Otherwise I better start hitchhiking back to West Virginia.
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Car Mechanics - Taking advantage of the mechanically disadvantaged since 1914.
4 comments:
Well, if you're hitching, I'm not picking up anymore strays. I'm having my own transportation mooch issues over at my own blog!
Oh, man - you and cars. It's like some kind of running blog gag. Or...I guess...not-running blog gag?
HI YOOOOOOO!
Anonymous: Between the "point and laugh" and the "running" pun (ba-zing), I don't think I could have an easier time identifying you if you told me that round kicks to the stomach hurt in a good way. :)
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