So my poor Ghetto Bug has been having some issues. Some of these issues require time at the shop with payment coming in the form of one of my vital organs and some only require some minor tweaks on my end and I get to keep my liver which is important to me given how much I drink. Tonight I had to do some tweaking.
Sometimes the Ghetto Bug makes a clicking noise and that means it needs some oil. I have to state here in my defense that I am diligent about replacing the oil every three months. I am all about keeping up on regular maintenance. However, the past year, the Ghetto Bug has been losing oil rapidly. No one can figure out why, maybe it's the off-roading. I have started taking the Ghetto Bug into the oil place between changes to have the oil checked and when I do that - guess what? The Ghetto Bug is fine on oil. If I happen to be busy and miss the between the oil change check up - IT NEEDS OIL. Sometimes I think the Ghetto Bug takes pleasure in messing with me. Like that time at the drive thru window when I needed to roll the window down and it kept rolling itself back up. When that happened, the Ghetto Bug probably did the equivalent of shooting milk out its nose only with oil not milk and that is why it has been coming up short. Anyhoo, back to the filling of the oil. So the Ghetto Bug has been clicking. It is late and I decide to pull into a store parking lot under a lamp. I get out, open the hood, and am putting oil in the Ghetto Bug. I am perfectly capable of performing this task by myself however it makes me feel a little less misanthropic when someone at least offers to help. As I am filling the oil people keep passing me and no one says jack. Finally a car full of guys drives up slowly and I think, "at last some helpful people." Do they stop and offer a hand? No! They whistle and drive off! I understand that the image of a women bent over the engine of a car elicits a reaction in some men due to the featuring of said image in many a men's magazine but COME ON! I had oil smeared on my hands because I was doing actual mechanical work. It was not strategically smeared on me to make my butt glisten. In fact I was wearing slacks therefore there would be no glistening butt or for that matter cleavage because I HAVE NO BOOBS!
Needless to say after receiving only a whistle in the way of acknowledgment, I had given up hope of any help and was preparing to shut the Ghetto Bug's hood when a kind couple drove up and asked if I needed assistance. I smiled and said "no thank you" and as I drove home in the Ghetto Bug I felt some peace knowing that caring people still inhabit this world and then my thoughts shifted to the weird burning smell coming from my engine.
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