Mandaris Moore

I'm not a fan of automotive repair. My first memorys of doing it was me attempting to help my dad work on something on the car. He'd be under there sweating and grunting as he changed the oil and then ask me to go and fetch something from his usually disorganized¹ workbench. Unfortunately, it seemed like no matter how quick I was it wasn't quick enough or the part was exactly what he wanted. I understand that it could be frustrating to wait underneath a car in the middle of the summer, but you'd think you'd be a little more prepared (i.e. have the tools ready) for a job that you've done every month.

Now, I don't want to sound ungrateful that my dad wanted make sure that I had some of the basic man skills, because there have been more than a couple times that I've had to change a tire, jump start a car or countless other little things that have popped up over the years. The only drawback is that working on cars with my dad has really left a bad impression on me.

I don't like it.

I cringe when it comes down to the maintenance of it all. I'm willfully and woefully ignorant with it comes to anything beyond the basic maintance. I cry a little bit inside everytime that I have to bring my car into a maintenance shop. When I'm with my other no-car people friends, we complain that there aren't any honest mechanics out there that we can trust.

I mean, I've run into a few who are honest, but they tend to either lose there job (drinking, divorce) or no longer able to work on it (it's complicated). It's shortly after those times that I wish I had taken a class or two on automotive repair. Not only to stop myself from getting ripped off, but to show my dad that I could do it.

But maybe that's a different issue all together.