car care

Current mood: sheeplike

"Your car is down about a quart of oil; it's a good thing you let me check it," said the pump attendant at my usual southbound Jersey Turnpike service station.

"Oh," I replied, thinking, man, I just stopped for gas and I have a long way to go, "is that bad?"

And instead of yelling at me, Of course it's bad, you diptsh*t! Your engine could explode through your sheer negligence!, because sometimes, I really am a Dumb Girl, I got a concerned, "Oh yeah, sweetie, it could be real bad, but don't worry, I'll take care of it and you'll be on your way in no time."

(casual endearments don't bother me at all, as long as they are not dropped with too much of an air of condescension by too-old or too-icky men, because they fall from my lips in a near-constant stream)

And he did and I was. When it doesn't lead to being fleeced, being a Dumb Girl isn't half bad. Though I do think I should learn a bit more about caring for my car and the bad things that result as a lack thereof.