A word about living across the street from your mechanic.

So I got in my car this morning. and, for the record, my car is a 99’ Jeep Cherokee. It’s been a good car, and I like it, and will probably keep it until it stops moving or upon my purchase of a Jeep Wrangler. (But not the new ones with the 4 doors – I would like to know whose idea it was to put FOUR DOORS on a Jeep Wrangler?! I am a purist when it comes to the Jeep Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species…and so forth and what not. My buddy who is also a Jeep purist has seen one of these new “Jeeps” and says the wheel bed is 4” wider than the real Jeep and looks just like a Hummer 3 – now what’s the point of THAT?)

So back to my mechanic.

I turned on my trusty Jeep and it sort of hesitated a bit on the up tic. I figure the poor baby is cold. So my mechanic whose shop is directly across the street from my house, starts walking in my direction. So I just wait for him to cross the street, and I roll my window down. And then he says, “next week it would probably be good if I took a look at the battery”.

Is that not fabulous!? Perhaps I am making a big deal out of this warmth, affection and attention my mechanic feels for me and more importantly, my Jeep. I’m glad he loves my Jeep as much as I do.

I think the last time he was working on it, they must have bonded. You know how you can get after a little washer fluid, eh?