The Dimwit Zone: The auto inspection, um, business...
Created | Updated Dec 23, 2003
No rest for the conscientious.
Time and memory are strange things.
Official reminders of necessary activities are often so ubiquitous and pervasive that they pass out of sight and mind.
Like vehicle inspection due dates.
Here is a lady who experienced the very best.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Mrs. Inova Camaro.
Mrs. Camaro:
I love you, everyone!
Especially that sound engineer with the soft hair...
I have this lovely little car...
A black one. A big one.
My first car.
I've kept it all these years.
I love it and everyone that looks like it!
Especially those driven by chauffeurs with soft hair...
So, anyway, my hosbend, he die.
I have this accountant and a lawyer and they say that I am only entotaled to one corter of my hosbend's estute.
It seems he hove three more wifes before me and they are entotaled
to some of the estute also, in the loo for back alley money.
So, anyway, I have to do all these things I never dood before.
I hove to hire my own maid staff.
I hove to learn to drive.
I hove to pay taxes and think about loundry.
And I have to toke my lovely car to the car nitspection place.
It seems there is this think they do to cars every year, kinda lock a yearly checkbook balancing, oonly they do it with tires and steering locks and things.
And I hove to tock the car to this plice, this car nitspecting plice, where they do this thing.
I go to this plice, awful plice, and they have oil on the driveway.
I put on my pump galoshes and spread an old bath mat on the floor by the driver's pedals. I alroody do not trust these peoples.
I go in and this little girl with things stuck in her face that catch the light tells me what I don't have is an appointment.
I ask her how much for an appointment.
She looks at me.
I ask her how much for her to take those things out of her face while she is talking to me.
She looks at me.
She mentions a figuore. I trim h'it. She fattens h'it. I squash h'it down to a manageable size and then let her give h'it another inch.
I pay her, she removes the metal things and I get to go nooxt.
I get to soot in the managler's offooce, too, with a coop of cafe and a new copy of MacNeil's.
The gentleman, with greasy coverballs and dirty bovvers, he comes in, and he does not have soft hair.
He has a balt hied! He has a balt Polish Eagley tattooined on the scalp of his balt hied!
Thees is the mon who wheel nitspect my car....
It turns out that he is a very knowledgibile balt hied man. He knows from my car and from it's year and from it's needing somethings every little once in awhile.
He asks me if I want a full servicing.
I am not sure what he is tocking. I never had much to do with the servants.
He asks me if I want any repears done.
I tell him there was a little orange peel on the fender once, but I do not know about any pears that were ever present, though I did once leave a bag of cherry tomatos in the back soit in the rain, once. Only once, I think.
He leaves in a gust of huff and the girl, now with just holes in her face, she comes in and sits across from me.
What am I here for, she asks me.
I said because the Motor Vehoocle people sent me a letter telling me to get a nitspection stoocker.
Ah, she says. That makes sense. It will only be a moment, she says.
She goes away.
I get boored. I stand up carefully, not to tooch anythink, and I look at a collander of a youngk wumen wearing less clothink than I normally don't wear, smiling and standing quite utterly awkwardly.
I look at the collander to see what they are selling. You will not behoove it! Ball bearings!
No wounder she were standing so awkwardly!
Then the little girl come back in, and she hove this very look on her face. Very very. Then this Policemon with nice soft hair come in after her and then she leave.
He ask me where I got the car.
I say it is mine.
He ask me to show him papers.
I say they are probably in the glove container in the front.
He says they look there. They found the original papers from the factory. In German.
I say that's where it came from.
He asks me where my license is?
I take plastic card out of my eelskin wallet and give it to him.
He looks at the picture and he says I must have been sixteen or seventeen when it was token. By the birthdate, I must be three times that by now.
I am a afraid that I blooshed a little. Yes, I said. How kind of you to think so.
Thin, it won't down heel from there.
The policemon with the nice hair took me to the police statoon and they made a lot of phoon calls.
They took my car away and I hoven't seen it, seence.
They let me go and I hod to tock a cabinet home.
What sword of coutnry is this?
I dood what they toold me!
