A Good Place
Our trusty site-meter informs us that we're receiving about 1,000 visits a week. Pretty good for a pretty new blog, I'd imagine. I feel obliged to offer our visitors something new to read every day or two. I don't want to be the one who jumps in front of the camera at every turn, but I'll volunteer when it's needed.
I therefore offer you this: Your Neighborhood Auto Center
I knew I needed an oil change and a tire rotation. There was the matter of finding a lift in town that wouldn't mar my ridiculous rocket-like runners and the matter of my feeling broke. After much phoning and deliberation, I went with Car-X. This is one anecdote in a life littered with anecdotes which demonstrate my capacity to understand things about life (such as, garages take advantage of women/men who appear "womanly" in their car knowledge) and to believe them as happening on another plane of existence entirely. The Realm of the Blonde/Dick Jokes, for example. Or, the World According to the Dads. I was not shocked, then, to discover that Car-X tried to sell me a battery for $130 + $69 labor that I in no way needed. But I was also utterly shocked. Floored, in fact. "Really?" I thought. "Car-X really does this?" And then there was the exchange I had with the mechanic who thought he could sell me on the battery after I'd already declined on it. He stuck his finger in my face and said, "Lady, you better get that battery out of there." And then (I almost hate to include this detail) he farted. A highly audible fart. One that raised more than two eyebrows in the room. He stormed out and I paid for my Car-X Package. When I got home I realized that they had not in fact fulfilled the Package as outlined on their laminated cards. I paid for fluids! Fluids! I am now looking at "The Car-X Promise." Two items catch my attention. "We will never sell you anything you don't need" and "Our most important goal is your satisfaction." And I'm thinking about this rage I have. It isn't entirely about the fact that the Car-X people tried to take advantage of another woman/man with only "womanly" knowledge. It has something maybe to do with the fact that even though I knew this would happen, it happened. It's the that's-so-predictable phenomenon. I realize myself as an individual highly susceptible to this experience. It's as though this shit is attracted to me like shit's apparently attracted to Chauncey's closet. Maybe we should begin an installation on this blog. Call it Chauncey's Closet. It could be, as my brother often phrases it, a good place to cut it.
posted by SAS @ Monday, July 11, 2005
5 Comments:
I'd sue. Ask Matt Williamson to represent you. Free fluids for life!
or we could just go shit in car x's garage. i'd be willing to piss on something if that would help. i feel very vulnerable too, as i pride myself on my womanliness. so what if it costs me a little extra when it comes time for car maintenance? i'm saving tons at the grocery checkout aisle and the lesbian bookstore...
I dealt with my own womanly knowledge recently. My sweet new (used) STEEL BLUE Dodge Neon, tentatively named Sugarbuns but I'm taking suggestions, was parked when struck by a drunk driver. He flipped his golden Camry on its side, that tricky fucker, and came to rest against Sugarbuns' front bumper.
When mechanics try to play me, I bring up one of the few technical automotive terms at my disposal. This time around I've been saying, "front cam seal" a lot. I say, "Yeah, I understand all that stuff you just told me, but what about the front cam seal. I'm going to need you to check the front cam seal. I think the cam seal is leaking." The use of this vocaubulary displays my "manly" knowledge of cars. If you need a word, Sarah, try, "left tie rod." That one's all yours.
1000 is good
i get about 100 a week
i want to complain
but i should be grateful, i know
you should post this nasty garage's nasty ass name on the car talk web site-- after that accomplishes nothing, you should shit in their closet.
anyway...
lucy had all sorts of problems getting her car checked out at a dealershit here in town(said dealershit being Whitedog--do not be deceived) of course owing to their willingness to push around women/men with "womanly" aspects/knowledge assess/breastessess and so we took it to Southside auto and this guy named John-- he only does imports-- volvos mostly-- but he is great and shows us what's wrong and how we can fix it-- then he usually charges us nothing and calls us to make sure it's ok-- failing a john for your car I suggest you bring a man who either a. knows a lot about cars or b. knows enough about cars to fake it to the shop and let him shit in their closet.
i dunno
how is everyone?
see you soon
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