Prayer to the car gods Part 2

Gah!

The water pump and alternator belt in my car decided it was a good day to die Tuesday. While inconvenient, this is not a colossal crisis. It most certainly could have been worse. Like engine failure, or timing belt or any other complicated costly automotive mysteries. I sulked most of yesterday over this fact, staying home and working remotely, in my grungy clothes without a shower. Automotive issues leave me feeling vulnerable as I know absolutely NOTHING about how to fix them.

My wonderful brother in law has offered his magic mechanic hands for the correction of this difficulty to which I say BLESS YOU. If he wasn't married to my sister, I might even offer to lick his toes. Or anything else.

I always find it difficult asking him to give his time in this manner as he works long hours doing this very thing and has had some very difficult times personally and doesn't need me dragging on his time or adding obligations. The last thing I want to do is impose on him and his generosity with any regularity. It's like being the friend with the pick-up truck always being asked to use it to move furniture or haul stuff. Been there. My sister is going to read this post and either email or call me to scold me for thinking like a moron . Yeah, Yeah, I hear you already.

On the flip side, it's hard to find a mechanic that wouldn't take advantage of this situation and charge me a ginormous fortune to fix this problem or tell me something else needs to be fixed. Hell, something else might need to be fixed but I'd prefer someone I trust implicitly to tell me that rather than someone I just met under needy circumstances. Dollar signs start rolling around an auto shop when a car pulls in leaking fluid from under the hood and making sickly noises. They can sense your fear. The scenario is similar to a wounded animal baying in the jungle and the predators start circling, gauging just how wounded this possible prey is and whether the fight will be hard before they can sink their teeth in and rip off hunks of bloody meat. Yes, that is exactly how I feel when I walk into an unfamiliar auto shop. Like the wounded prey about to be consumed by hungry beasts, circling ever so closely.

So, I will prevail upon my brother in law's generosity. Besides the last time I took the car to jiffy lube to get the oil changed, I seem to recall him calling me an idiot for not having him do it.