Under My Hood

My car decided to leak coolant on Friday afternoon. This only furthered my theory that a roving band of screwdriver-wielding gnomes is roaming the Midwest, puncturing engines and lifting off fan belts, putting mysterious objects in tailpipes, pulling out electrical wires, and dumping Tab in gas tanks, so we have to spend weekends car-less and/or stranded.

I called my local garage and asked if they were open on Saturday. Amazingly, they would be. “Tony” said he’d work on it. We dropped the car off Friday night. I spoke with “Tony” from Saturday morning’s soccer game (we won, BTW, mercy rule, ‘cause our kids kick ass), and he affirmed that, yes, my nightmare was a new radiator. (It’s a ten-year old car, I was actually expecting it.)

Saturday evening we picked up my car, fixed and beautiful. “Tony” was young. “Tony” was not yet 25. “Tony” had nice eyes and a quiet voice, and looked like a younger version of my usual mechanic, “Bill”. Brothers, I think.

“Tony” gave me my key and my receipt, and led me out back where my old radiator lay. Three areas of cracking, right where the evil roaming gnomes’ screwdrivers had done their bid’ness. “Tony” told me some other things he noticed, things that could wait, but that he could fix. “Tony” looked right into my eyes as he talked, which I found refreshing. No shifty eyes, no looking away and back, just, “Your wiring needs looking at because your hi-beam indicator is on even when you’re lights are off.”

Nice.

As I got into my car, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window reflection. I was wearing a strappy summer shirt, you know the type, spaghetti-straps tank top, low-cut front, with a small lightweight un-zipped zipper-front sweatshirt over it. For some reason, the weather or my posture, the front of the tank had slipped down a bit, revealing quite a bit of cleavage and nearly the top of my bra. Hoochie-mama. Jiggly hooch.

I didn’t know which I appreciated more.

That “Tony” fixed my car on a Saturday and didn’t overcharge me.

Or.

That “Tony” had eye-contact with me with my breasteses waving at him.

I think I have a new mechanic.