Getting A Car Repaired, And Other Acts of God

There are many things that happens in a person’s life. For example, one is born, and then often they go through this period where they get pimples and try unsuccessfully to get dates with girls who have the brains of a squirrel, or look like a squirrel, like this one girl I know who I’ve been trying to get to go out with me (using the bulletproof ploy of teasing her and telling her that she is my enemy, and I hate her). And then, of course, they get a car. And then the worst part of their life, the part that nobody likes, the part that involves dealing with car salesmen and repairmen who routinely use words like “manifold”, which, if you were to question 100 people on the street about, they would agree was some type of dirty word. Either that or teeth (as in mandible). Or that part of a man’s beer belly that hunches over his belt buckle. Anyway, the part of one’s life I’m talking about (remember what I was talking about? I thought not) is…

TRYING TO GET A 10-YEAR OLD CAR REPAIRED

This is a task which is given only to those who God truly hates, such as poor people. Sadly, my mother falls into these ranks. So now, of course, because she has been poor, she has a 10-year-old car which she must get fixed. And so now you’re all screaming at your computer screens “No! Stop! Just buy a new one! Don’t entangle yourself in THAT!!” Except for one small detail: This is an American-made car, which is like a giant white elephant, only less useful. American-made cars are so rare that they are revered, put into museums and cherished, unless they happen to be AMC Gremlins (“gone, but still hated”). Actually, if they are any type of AMC car, now that I think about it.

Anyway, this means that she must take the car to the Ford dealership (“Oh no! Not a FORD!”) and get it fixed tonight. Of course, she had already had it fixed, but again, she had it fixed by people who routinely use the word “mandible.” Or was it “manifold”? Right. Manifold. Anyway, so they didn’t completely finish the job (even though they found a pencil in the car’s right heating ventricle), and so she must go back to the Dealership AGAIN.

I don’t know what will happen, but I’m pretty sure that this means I can’t go to Stephanie (another girl I tried to go out with)’s graduation ceremonies, and I will probably not have enough time to finish my homework either (I know it is finals time at school, it does not matter). All I know is, this article is getting mighty long, and I’m getting mighty thirsty. I think I’m going to get some lemonade. I think my mom might prefer arsenic.

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