11.03.2007

Popular Mechanics


I always said that I don't need anyone to ream my ass with sunshine. I'd prefer to meet someone who can clean a carburetor and/or make soup. And I did.

He isn’t too old or fat or stupid or sexist or married. He might not even be an alcoholic. He’ll probably never ask me to eat beef or shave or hold hands in public or meet his parents. He’ll probably never ask me to do anything other than to pay in cash. And I know, it’s such a cliché, but my mechanic is pretty much perfect.

He sure can talk about voltage swing… I hang around the shop, rifle though garbage , play with my hair, and try to impress this gentlemen with the breadth and scope of my self-deprecating humor. Closing time comes and goes and he continues at length about the benefits of monitoring my own tire pressure and wearing polyvinyl microfibers. I wonder if he is retarded. I also wonder if there is a panic button he's been trying to engage all afternoon that doesn't seem to work... Or if he thinks I’m too young. Or silly. Or if my fly is down...Is he trying to scare me away with this business talk?


Maybe he’s seeing someone. I wonder if I should accidentally leave my glasses so that he can have a reason to call me. Who could this other woman be? Surely, she can’t make jokes about Quantum Leap and nineties Hip-Hop like I can. Does she even have health insurance?

I can also open imported beers with a lighter. Can she do that? She’s probably totally controlling, suicidal and a coke-fiend. He’s got to take care of her. I guess… I guess I should check to make sure my fly isn’t down. Whoever she is, she's probably creepy.

Or maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe he just has a really physically, physiologically, and sexually crippling venereal disease. Like anal warts the size of brussel sprouts.
Otherwise, it could be that he thinks I’m flaky. Maybe he doesn’t like my jokes. Maybe he doesn’t like jokes.
Lately, I wonder why he hasn't returned my phone call about the battery I ordered two weeks ago. Should I take it personally? Should I stop by? Maybe he lost my number. Or maybe he’s too busy to order a battery. Or maybe he doesn't want to be my mechanic anymore. No. That’s silly. Maybe he’s dead. Or on vacation. Or getting married in France. Sheesh. Maybe he had to pass a kidney stone. Or maybe he's being held up at gun point by his girlfriend, who he finally realized has PTSD and rabies.

I should probably stop by.