The Midas touch

In a relatively quick amount of time, I've become quite familiar with the workings of the car I drive. I know the meanings of and have looked closely at worn out car parts including the sway-bar; brake knuckle (aka hub), pin, and seat; ball and socket joints; and shocks. I'd like to blame all of this mechanical education I've been getting to the patchwork quality of the city/neighborhood streets I drive, but that's another matter.

What's amazing is that I've learned all about this stuff in the past three weeks at the local Midas mechanic shop. They've surely got the Midas touch and it's in their favor not mine, because I keep having to go back one week after another. I always hope it's because of something they've made a mistake with so I can get the repair for free, but the three separate times I've visited in the past three weeks have all legitimately been for different problems. Before all these repairs began, I think my car had found homeostasis, but after one thing was fixed, another got upset. During my second visit, I'm sure the mechanics thought I a car-hypochondriac, but I am far from it. I'll have to admit, I'm one of those people who ignores the maintenance light, but I could not ignore the series of techno beats coming from my front axle.

At the end of three weeks, I'm on a first name basis with the mechanics. They're nice guys who'll answer any or all questions I have (even if it is because my business makes up 1/5 of their revenue stream for the month of August). They've even got to making me estimates in ranges before they have to "look at the parts inventory and talk with the manager," which I consider a great hurdle cleared. And the last time I went, one of them told a mechanic joke and I got it.