Monday, March 15, 2004

Automobile maintenance and high seas adventure met briefly yesterday, gentle reader, when I found a pair of pliers hidden under the hood. It all began when Mother Nature expertly stuck a few twigs along the ridge of my hood. I tried to pull these twigs out, but with my luck they quickly snapped like so many mental patients. Under the driver’s side seat I went, fishing for the hood button and grumbling all the while.

I found the button and pressed it, only to discover that the hood merely unlocked itself and wouldn’t lift up completely. Great, now I needed to find the release latch. I slid my fingers across the edge of the hood until I found something that felt like a latch but certainly didn’t act like one. You see, the “latch” disappeared as soon as I touched it. When I had found the real latch, I lifted the hood and exposed the counterfeit: turns out it was one of the handles belonging to a grimy pair of pliers. When did my car turn into a frickin’ treasure chest?

This was precisely how Long John Silver felt, except that he found gold circa 15th or 16th century and I found a pair of pliers–retailing no more than $4.95 plus tax–circa three weeks ago when I brought my car into port. Slipshod service? Perhaps, but there are far graver implications at hand.

Christmas, Hanukah, and maybe Happy Meals have traditionally been our major sources of loot, but someone apparently failed to tell that to my Duxler representative. Now I am compelled to pop the hood regularly to check for trinkets. Who knows what untold riches I may find buried in my car? I could find a screwdriver. Doubloons. Maybe even a mechanic. Yaaaaargh.