Monday, November 22, 2010

D for Duuuuuumb!

Apparently the masses are getting restless for me to post something since I got a message today from my mother that said in not so many words, "When are you going to post something again?"
I apologize, I've been busy.
Work is crazy and my brain is tired.

Today I want to talk to you about something personal, something intimate.
Something that all of us at some point in time will have to deal with, unless we're princesses who have people take care of this sort of thing for us.

I'm talking about getting your car worked on.
Your oil changed, some sort of something worked on, anything under the hood.

Is that not the wickedest (that's not a word) feeling in the world?
Its like going to the doctor, "So, have you been eating healthy lately?"
"Yes," but inside your head, "Not if you count that box of donuts yesterday."

Its like those guys know, they know, that you don't always stop before throwing it in drive, straight out of reverse.
They know that one time you bought the cheap gas when you're supposed to only use premium.
They know for sure that you don't get your oil changed right on the three thousand mile mark.
Getting your oil changed is fairly personal but, how do you feel when something major is wrong?

How do you explain (why do you feel like you have to?) your clutch going out and needing to be replaced to some guy you've never met before but, you're supposed to trust him with a big piece of your personal property?
Cars are personal.
Getting your car worked on is intimate.
Are you with me?

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