Cars
suck. At least, our car does.
Last August, within days of my arrival in Texas, the steering felt weird. I said to Sam "It's the tie rods, I bet." Lo and behold, the woman was right. Three hundred bucks to repair those.
Earlier this year, the car started leaking transmission fluid like it was going out of style. An hour later, the car was deader than George Burns. Three thousand borrowed from my asshole father in law dollars later, we had a new transmission. Joy.
We have a screwed up wheel bearing, a tire with a slow leak, the electric windows don't roll down, the electric locks don't work, and there's a dent as big as my ass on the right side fender.
Today Sam noticed that the brakes were responding like crap. Stopped at a gas station to check the brake fluid and it was OUT. Empty. Pffft! Gone. Ran inside, bought a bottle of the stuff, then we sat there trying to figure out how we were supposed to get the fluid poured out of the bottle into the little hole that was two inches under the body of the car.
While we sat there puzzled, this guy walks over who looks just like a short Chris Elliot (sounded like him, too!) and says "Oh yeah, at such and so mechanic school, we dealt with this. Here, this is how it's done..." Then he fills our brake fluid reservoir, and then this guy followed us home to make sure we were okay.
At home he gave us some tips about the brakes, the shabby wheel bearing we have, and some other things. We asked him if he does side work, and he said absolutely and gave us his phone number.
We desperately need a mechanic, and it looks to me like once again, my Deity has delivered what I need.
As Sam always says: "Your Deity sure likes you."
Ain't it true?