Dr. Mechanic

I had to take the car to the Dr. today, Dr. Mechanic that is. It was somewhat unexpected; I woke up to find the little guy standing over a pool of its own fluid. I freaked a bit, though I was forewarned about the potential for this display of weakness, I wasn’t forewarned about the rapidity of the decline into the undesirable state.

It’s ironic that in a place were lubrication is of the utmost importance that they often want to screw you, the customer, without it. You’ll understand what I mean in the next minute. I was told that it would take 4Cs to fix my metallic feet; for the under educated 4Cs are 4 bills, almost half a grand, half a G. Due to 'sticker price shock' I decided to Google my way to a calmer emotional state, and started looking for the needed parts, and the need prices. It was NOT to my surprise that I did see lower prices; it is axiomatic that you feel as if standing naked with your toes around your fingers when in the presence of a mechanic. The dude was doing me dirty, or at least trying to. After confronting him on his arithmetic he backed off and threw out other more suitable options of pleasing numbers. Since I had to be in my cubicle, I had to let him slide, and leave my baby with his curious fingers.