Future Husband, DANG That Bug Spray

Dear Future Husband,
There are a lot of things that I have gotten REALLY good at in my single years: managing finances, tending to repairs around the house (i.e. paying someone else to tend to repairs around the house), hooking up electronics, taking the garbage out, etc. I have ZERO qualms about bringing these skills to our future life…minus maybe the garbage part, that’s ALL you.

HOWEVER, there is one category that I will happily hand over. Car stuff.

While I DID negotiate the price and purchase my own car, and I DO regularly schedule oil changes and trips to the carwash, I REALLY HATE IT. Like a lot. And I especially despise when something breaks down.

No matter how knowledgeable I may be about brake rotors, suspension systems, starters or timing belts, the MINUTE I step foot into an auto repair shop and open my mouth, the man behind the counter takes one look at me and says something like, “Aw, you’re cute. Let me pat you on the head before I ask you to take a seat so the real people (AKA men) can look at your car. MMMk?”

Ok. Ok. The man behind the counter usually asks what’s wrong and then takes my number and says he’ll call once they’ve taken a look, but you KNOW he MEANT the former.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I began to notice an annoying rattling in my car. It sounded like it was coming from the trunk, so I, naturally, emptied my trunk. But the noise didn’t stop. Ugh. Then, I made a special note to pinpoint when the rattling would occur. And it occurred every time I hit the brakes. Great.

So, I put on my big girl pants, made an appointment at the auto repair shop, gritted my teeth and took my car in.

A few hours later, my phone rang. I prepared myself for the worst and answered.

“Uh, Ms. Waitin? We took a look at your car, and there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with your brakes. We checked the back, and found, uhm, <insert muffled laughter> two cans of bug spray rolling around your trunk, in the spare tire area. So, uhm, that noise you heard when you hit the brakes? Yeah…that was the cans moving back and forth. BUT, while you’re here, your brake fluid tested bad, you need a new air filter, your windshield wipers could stand to be changed, and when was the last time you had an oil change?”

I wish I could insert a pic of my “I’m-2.5-seconds-away-from-punching-you-in-the-throat” face here.

But alas, I didn’t feel like fighting and just told him to take care of it all.

When I went to pick up the car, the man, obviously gloating in his victory, HAD THE NERVE to SHOW ME the old, disgusting, newly-bagged air filter. Gross. And THEN he asked me if I wanted to take it home. To which I replied, “OH YES! Please! I’d like to frame it and put it on my wall.”

I guess he didn’t realize “cute” little car-clueless girls were capable of sarcasm, because his face changed, and he said, rather sheepishly, “really?

“OF COURSE NOT. That would be ridiculous.”

So, he threw away the dirty air filter, knocked a bit off the price and gave me my keys. Buh Bye.

PS. I feel like I need to be honest and let you know that I know nothing about brake rotors, suspension systems, starters or timing belts…I just wanted to prove a point.
PSS. I DO know how to change a spark plug. And by spark plug, I mean fuse. I really hope you know more about cars than I do…

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, DANG That Bug Spray