No Drive

Everyone has their skills. We have our weak spots too. I’ve always been a bit car illiterate. Sure, I know how to drive. After forty years of accident-free driving, auto insurers love me, although the metal fabrication industry may be less than enthusiastic about my record. When it comes to repairs, however, I’m both clueless and unmotivated. In my youth, my dad took care of repairs. When I got married, the torch was passed to my husband. Nothing prepared me for my first venture into a repair shop.

“You need new joints, Ma’am”.

Considering my arthritic knees, I wasn’t in a position to argue, but what did that have to do with my car?

The mechanic saw my bewildered look. “You need a CV joint repair.”
“It just clicks a bit. Can’t you squirt some oil on it?”

For just one second, his face appeared incredulous. Then he grabbed pen and paper and began a lecture as endless as my college chemistry professor’s. My mind drifted to that evening’s dinner as he rambled on about everything except my car. Vague bits about a rock band called the Drive Shafts, some dusty boots and a lady named Constance Velocity filtered through my menu planning. When I tuned back in, he was finally getting back to the business at hand.

“I can have one of our specialists  get started on it as soon as you authorize it.”

“So oil won’t work?”

He didn’t try again. 

“Here’s the estimate. I’ll need your signature.” 

Sadly, I understood that.   And so did my wallet.

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