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Muffler Mayhem

So yesterday, I had to drive The Boy's car. He has been financially responsible and has chosen to drive the same car he's had since college because it is free. That's a smart thing to do, but college ended five years ago, and the 93 Probe is starting to show its years. Recently, it decided to revolt against its tailpipe and severed itself where the tailpipe connects to the muffler causing it to sound something like a weed eater with a sore throat. Knowing that it was now or never, I called a nearby muffler shop when I got to work and ascertained that they would be able to fix the muffler by the end of the day if I dropped it off over lunch. I then called The Boy and he said he'd be grateful if I took it in to be repaired.

Now it has been awhile since I've been to a muffler shop, and I�d forgotten a few things. First off, there's the smell. You know the smell. It is the same smell found in any establishment that regularly uses compressed air and red work towels covered in grease. Secondly, who drinks the free coffee at a muffler shop? Ew! As I wait for the Summer Help to finish a phone call, I notice that the three people waiting have gotten all chummy and are talking like they've known each other forever. Not a good sign. Nonetheless, the Summer Help has me fill out a form and takes the keys. While I'm waiting for Mo to come and pick me up, I read through a bit of literature about serpentine belts and what not. Innnteresting. A couple of teenage hoodlums come in to inquire about the cost of putting "tips" on their 1985 royal blue Mustang. Hot! They were only $30 - I considered having them modify the Probe, but then decided against it.

After work, Taerna dropped me back off at the muffler shop for more fun and games. I opened the door and walked inside and a few steps behind me followed a young 19-something waitress party chick. I walked to the counter and slowed then stopped as I reached the desk. I'm not sure what was going on with her, but she stopped literally within a breath of me. Now I'm not a freak about standing close or anything - being a red-blooded American, of course I like my space, but well - she was REALLY close. Like close when you type two ll's close in an Arial font close. I turned and looked back at her with probably a surprised look on my face cause dammit, CLOSE! I didn't stare at her - I turned and faced forward again, and she stood there while she started shifting a bit...shifting... and then slowly stepped back. So that was settled.

Finally, the Summer Help returned from his slow stroll to wherever and I told him I was here for the Probeorator, and he left again to find somebody to mumble mumble I have no idea what he said. When he came back, he asked Double-l girl what she needed. If I could remember/understand what she said exactly, I would type it. Alas, I think it went something like this:

"I called and they said my car wasn't ready, but it�s parked out front - Mitsubishi Eclipse - and I think it�s done. I mean it looks done, but they said on the phone it would be 45 minutes and I don't know how long its been, but I think its ready and I really need to get something out of it if its going to be any longer - Mitsubishi Eclipse - can you check on it and see, cause I think its done and I really need it - k? Mitsubishi Eclipse."

She was talking super fast and had smoker party chick voice. She slurred words a bit, too - my guess is a couple of amaretto sours poolside was how she spent her day. It was really weird how she kept inserting the car name in the middle of sentences. I didn't get that, and neither did the Summer Help. He responded:

"What was that last part - miss-u....??"

Double-l responds, "What? I didn't say anything."

The Help: "What you just said - I didn't hear it."

Double-l looks and me and then back at him, "Um, I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't just say anything."

The Help: "You were telling me about your car, and you said something at the end???"

She shakes her bitchy head in frustration like the Help is the one smoking crack. The Help looks at her, dumbfounded, and then starts for the door. He glances back at me and I say "Mitsubishi Eclipse?"

The Help: "Ahhhh!!!"

Double-l: "What? I mean what? Okay."

That was the most fucked-up conversation I've heard in awhile. What in the hell did she mean, "I didn't say anything"??? She said a shit ton of stuff and while it was mostly unintelligible, well dammit she spoke!!! It turns out her car had something hanging off of it that the muffler guy removed for her. He did it at no charge, but she wanted to tip cause she was a waitress, but (read in smoker party chick voice) "how much do you tip a guy who removes a piece of pipe from your underside?"

In case you are wondering, she tipped him $10 in ones.

1:52 p.m. - July 07, 2004

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