Have you ever noticed how keeping up with a blog is like trying to write in your journal every day? Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that a blog is simply a journal gone public. Everyone is dying to express their innermost thoughts, feelings and desires to anyone who will listen. And then they throw a fit about privacy and how it’s being “invaded”. Heh, it’s funny to me. Anyhow, I feel myself about to start on a tangent (which I tend to do…often) that has absolutely nothing to do with what this particular post is supposed to be about. Another trademark of blogs, yes? The only reason I opened with that question is because it’s been months since I’ve even attempted to write in my blog. Even though I’ve discovered that I like to write. Really like it, in fact. I still suck at it, but I don’t care. I was the same way when I tried to write in my journal. I’d promise myself I’d write every day. Then it became every week… then every month… … I think you get the idea. So this is my roundabout apology to you, dear readers (all 1 of you), for not keeping up with this thing as I should.
So, this post has nothing to do with tangents (ok, maybe a little) or apologies and everything to do with… Mechanics. To be more specific: mechanics and women. Before you get all excited thinking I’m pitching a new soap opera idea, let me stop you right there. I’m talking about how those lovely men under the hood treat us women. Everyone knows what I’m talking about; even you mechanics out there. I understand that women do not traditionally mess around with cars or know everything there is to know about what makes them work. Most of the time, as long as it runs, we don’t care. And, yes, we’d prefer our husband/dad/brother/cousin/cute-muscley neighbor take care of it, but it does NOT mean we are stupid. What brings this up, you ask? Well, lady and/or gentleman, I’ll tell you.
My van has been having “issues” for… well, quite some time. In fact, my first attempt at writing a post for a blog was taking place while my van was being worked on. In another fact, that problem my van was having that day is the same problem (one of them, anyhow) it’s having now. So I bring my van in seeing as the brake pads they put in last year are still under warranty (by “they” I mean Big O Tires here in Salt Lake City). And how do I know that they are the problem? Did my husband tell me (the first question out of one of the mechanics mouth)? No. I knew because there is that horrible, cringe-inducing squeal every time I even think about touching the brakes. Also, there is a fair amount of that wonderful brake dust coating my front left tire rim in at least three layers of gook. The usual signs, am I right? Anyhow, the guy manning the desk looked me up and down and had this look on his face like “yeah, lady, sure” while I was explaining the problem. He then proceeds to tell me that they’ll take a look, but he’s “pretty sure it’s not the brakes because they just replaced them not even a full year ago and they just don’t go out that quickly”. That may seem pretty benign to you but combine that with his body language and the “look” then you have a recipe for pissing Cara off which, contrary to popular opinion, is just really not that hard to do anymore. Ok ok, it is, but I really try not to. Honest! Anywho… So they take the van back and I open my laptop and start working on this blog (rant, rave, whatever) to help kill time. I had a head full of steam and I had to blow it off somehow.
About 45 minutes later, a different guy comes out and tells me that sure enough, it’s the brakes. I was so proud of myself and silently gloating that it took me a moment to realize he was still talking; telling me that the brakes were the least of my worries. He proceeded to lay out this list of work that needed to be done right away or I would essentially die in some horrible, fiery crash. Oh, and it was going to cost me $900. Normally, this would make me raise an eyebrow and say “yeah, sure”, but this guy was actually talking to me like a person. Not an inept female. And everything he was telling me was exactly what my van had been doing for months. So, suffice it to say, his treatment of me and the fact I had to come up with $900 in order to drive my van again completely took the wind out of my sails. Which, in turn, completely derails the original purpose of this post.
Cliff would be this mechanic’s name and I can’t thank him enough for being so helpful and honest and decent. Did I mention he also knocked the final bill down to $800 without me even asking? Great guy. He’s helped keep my hope alive that not all mechanics suck. And chivalry isn’t dead. Thanks, Cliff. The van runs great!
