KILLER KYLE'S KOMING TO GET ME

I really hate being a loser.

Life would have been soooo much easier if I had been born a winner.

However...I've got more bad luck than...than...shit...even the metaphors aren't coming at rapid fire pace today.

*sigh*

Here's my problem...

I don't know SHIT about cars.

Nothing. I am the absolute WORST mechanic in the world.

When the average car begins acting up, most car owners are able to lift up the hood and at least find a general area where there may be a problem.

I, on the other hand, have mastered the art of running around the car like Jerry Lewis after spilling a hot cup of coffee on his naked crotch every time my car starts malfunctioning.

For the last...ohhh...two months...I've needed a tune-up.

Saturday night I noticed I smelled gas while I drove it.

So today, I drive to my local 10-minute oil change place and request a tune-up.

"Pop open your hood, sir"

WHOOOHOOO!! This was going to be quick!!

The next thing I knew, I had a bald guy named Kyle in my face telling me that I needed a new fuel injector and the worst case scenario was this was going to take all week to fix and would cost AT THE MOST $662.

All I thought was...well gee...maybe the baby can get used to sleeping on the floor for the first year of its life.

I asked Kyle to back up and give me back a little personal space.

"What do you mean 'worst case scenario'?" I asked Kyle.

Kyle said...and I motherfunkin' quote here..."Sometimes I can take these things off without breaking the rings. But if I break the rings, that's an extra $179."

I swear to GOD he said that.

And what do you think Uncle Bob said???

I motherfunkin' quote here as well...

"Kyle ... I'm going to suggest that you be one careful motherfucker when you take those rings off."

The guy was taken aback. I'll be honest...I can't BELIEVE I said that. As soon as I said it I thought "Oh you dumb sonofabitch. This guy is going to rip you a new one."

I had a buddy come pick me up and take me to the office. On the way back to the office I was just sick...thinking I didn't have $700 to just toss in this car.

"Why don't we go by my buddy's auto shop and ask him about it," my boy Greg said.

Brilliant idea. It sure beat letting Killer Kyle take out his frustrations against me on my engine and then charging me three car payments for the damage.

We went to see Greg's buddy who, for the lack of a better term, is a fuckin' redneck.

But he's one of the most successful fuckin' rednecks in the city.

His mechanic shop is based around honesty. He's honest to everyone that comes in his shop. He'll look at your car, and if all it needs is a tweak here and there, he won't charge you...he'll just say "Come back when you have a REAL problem."

Which is his trademark. And people DO come back, because they know he's going to be honest with them and do a great job. In fact, his lot is FULL of cars that he has waiting to get worked on.

Anyway...he does a great business, I had just never thought to use him.

The redneck listened to my problem and laughed. He said that you did NOT need to remove the engine to get to my fuel injector and that it would NOT take six days for him to fix it and it may NOT be the fuel injector, it may just be the rings and he can probably get me fixed for less than a hundred bucks.

I dry humped the redneck's leg in gleeful appreciation. He pushed a sawed-off shotgun in my face and I backed up like a good doggie.

I had Greg drive me BACK to the oil change place for my showdown with Killer Kyle.

I ran in the garage where he had already taken off a number of the belts and hoses and crap and was busy soldering dead squirrels to my gas tank.

"Wait a second," I said. "My wife totally freaked out when she heard this and wants me to take it to one of her mechanic friends first. I'm sure I'll be back here later today though. Please fix my car back the way it was and lemme get the fuck outta here."

...alright...I didn't say "fuck". I wasn't going to push my luck with this bald headed mechanic monster.

"Sure thing," he said. "But...you know by driving the car with fuel dripping out onto your hot engine, there's a possibility it could catch on fire..."

...NEWMAN!!...

I felt trapped. Do I drive the car and risk death?? Or do I just admit defeat and let the guy mechanically rape my car and steal food out of my baby's mouth.

Ladies and gentlemen...

Your Uncle Bob's REAL name??

Evel Motherfucking Knievel, baby.

I told him to jam those hoses and belts back on...I'M TAKING A CHANCE, BAYBEEEE!!!

I am DAREDEVIL EXTRAORDINAIRE UNCLE BOB KNIEVEL, HOMESLICE!!!

WHOOOOOHOOOOOO!!!!!

I hopped behind the wheel, honked the horn loudly and flipped Kyle a bird.

"Bite a fart, you Nazi scumbag," I hollered out at him as I pulled out of his lot.

"I'll get you, my pretty," I heard him call out behind me. "And your little dog too!!"

I hauled ass ... hoping to never see his Aryan butt again.

So I feel a whole lot better with this other guy working on it.

Except it's 5:30 and I still haven't heard from the guy who told me he'd call me before noon.

*gulp*

I hate being a loser.