Tongue-In-Cheek … Foot-In-Mouth

Back in the day, vehicles were designed more user-friendly.  And because of this a monkey or even a humor columnist armed with a cleverly bent coat hanger could tinker around and fix anything, from removing and replacing the drivetrain, to changing the pine-scented Christmas tree air freshener.

NOTE: Removing and replacing the drivetrain is a relatively straight forward procedure.  But changing an air freshener can be tricky business, because if you are NOT careful you will touch said air freshener with your bare skin, and you will then smell like pine for upwards of six months, which will drive the local squirrel community nutty.  And the squirrels will then begin wildly chasing you around in a frantic effort to be the first to stash their nuts into any of a number of your anatomical orifices, one in particular—because this is a family newspaper and all I will not get too much into detail here other than to say it might result in some level of discomfort for you, especially if you attempt to sit down.

Anyway, fixing your car by yourself is pretty much impossible nowadays because you need a PhD in Applied Automotive Design just to be able to figure out how to open the hood.  And this is because some corporate automotive CEO suit, who has been bullied by EVERYONE since being a fetus, and who hates EVERYONE, and who wants to get back at EVERYONE, has done so by putting escaped Nazi war criminals in charge of designing automobiles and writing user’s manual; user’s manuals which are so thick Godzilla could not rip one in half even with the help of a chainsaw; user’s manuals which are so criminally complicated it’s virtually impossible to figure out how to fix a fuse.

EXAMPLE

The user’s manual “fix-a-fuse” instructions state:  “In order to snake your way around all the other engine-equipment clutter and reach the fuse box—Ha!  Good Luck!—you must be a certified circus contortionist, have twenty-eight-inch long fingers, be related to Henry Ford, own an auto body shop, and have the know-how to disassemble an entire vehicle, including the paintjob.”

So, whenever we have mechanical problems we are forced to deal with automotive mechanics.  And your standard mechanics are a nasty lot who are in cahoots with the Nazis, and who have the nasty Nazi habit of ALWAYS giving the car-owners the worse-case scenarios about their broken automobiles.

EXAMPLE

“You think it’s just a rattle.  But it isn’t.  Basically, everything in your car is broken, including your Christmas tree air freshener.  And it will take at least six hundred weeks to get the parts to fix your car, that is, if I can locate the parts, which I don’t think I can.  But if I do, the amount to fix your car will be slightly more expensive than what it costs to keep the Federal Government supplied in enough red tape to allow them to bog down every piece of important legislation, to include banning low-fat potato chips.  But that’s only my over-inflated estimate, so don’t quote me, because it’s going to cost you much, much more.”

I know what I’m talking about; we just bought a new mini van, and after buying it I drove it 19-feet across the street to a gas station to top off the tank, because dealers ONLY give you enough gas so you can drive out of their sight and out of their mind, and I found myself engaged in a conversation with the mechanic.

“Sir, I know it’s none of my business but it sounds like you need a new engine. “

“A new engine?”

“And a transmission, electrical system, and a new Christmas tree air freshener.”

“The mini van is brand spanking new.  I just bought eight seconds ago from that dealer right across the street.” (Point)

When a mechanic realizes he’s about to lose a sale, they will begin to introduce guilt by mentioning the safety factor of your family and tossing out potential dangers that can result due to your obvious Scrooge-like cheapness.

“Well, if that was my vehicle I would not be driving my family around in that hunk of junk, especially if I had kids.  Do you have children?”

“Yeah, I have kids.”

“You do realize your entire brake system is about to explode?”

“Explode?  I’ve used the brakes once, to stop in here for some gas.”

“Hey, listen; you do what you want to do. But if your brakes fail, well, who am I to say anything?  After all, it isn’t my family’s lives that are in jeopardy.”

I’m sick of cars and even sicker of mechanics, but unfortunately I need both.

Well, I’m running late for my ninth guilt brake overhaul of the week, which according to my mechanic, who’s in the process of purchasing a new mansion, complete with a moat, “you can never be too safe, and don’t put a price on your family’s safety, well, at least not until my mansion’s mortgage has been paid off.”

Copyright 2009 William E. Drury Jr.,  All Rights Reserved.