Quest for Mr.GoodWrench

Tell me something. Why is it so hard to find a good mechanic? You buy a used car and it runs fine for a few weeks. Then you hear that unfamiliar sound as if the dealer had sneaked a banana into your transmission box to quieten it. Now that banana's quit, without the two weeks notice. Health reasons, I believe. And I have severe heartburn. A few simple problems. My transmission mount broke, my tires haven't been aligned since quilted toilet paper was invented, my front brakes pulsate since the discs are warped as though the previous owner used the car on the Mars exploration trip. My brain's screaming red. It's a used car, a few problems will definitely manifest, that's a given. But I can't seem to find Mr.Goodwrench. Most mechanics these days are good at calling you and letting you know that the car needs to be in the shop for the night while you squirm at the other end of the phone as though a small gerbil was attempting to explore your most possessed body cavity. Once the moon rises, the mechanic's fangs come out and he hunts for transmission fluid.

And dealers! They're another breed, more prized than the Kohinoor . You have to display special polka skills and a hundred thousand dollar pinky ring before you open your mouth in front of one. Or expect no response, just a blank stare and a "humph" to ward you off as though you were a dung beetle. If you happen to let a few wrong words slip regarding a delay in your decision for the purchase, God be with you. He'll walk away from you like you're carrying the antichrist in your proverbial womb. And did I mention the long queue stretching a few blocks to look at the car by popular demand. People are out to hack each other to death over this four wheeled leviathan. They make it sound like there's the equivalent of the 'Spanish Inquisition' waiting to happen for this particular baby. "Are you going to buy it? Yes? God be with you! No? Toss this non-believer into boiling oil! Behold, non-believers!! The human tempura!!!" If you don't hurry up, you'll be left licking the dust off your boots. So beware my little friend, when you deal with these two kinds, exercise extreme caution like you would if you were reaching into a rabbit hole searching for your golf ball. The bunny might just lob a wrench at ya!