I wrote this story a while back, and feel it deserves to be a part of the block. I have entered it into a funny women contest... we'll see if I am worthy. Until then, party on.
The Oil Change Anomaly—having a vagina does not mean I don’t know anything about cars…
Chevrolet was so kind to include a nice message center on the gauge cluster of the model I own. An idiot light, if you ask my father. It just so happened that the idiot light had been on for quite some time, and this idiot had ignored it… for several months… Ok, so it has been like 7 months since my last oil change! Big deal! I know, I know, I am just sticking a gun to my truck’s head waiting to pull the trigger. I know I need to do it, but if I don’t do it myself, I have to go to one of those places, where the nasty oil stained men all believe my IQ is smaller then the 15mm socket they are going to have to use to get off the nut to my oil pan. Assholes… The day has come where I finally cave, and get in Ol’ Blue to cruise on over to the nearest oil changing facility, to either embarrass the man behind the counter, or to make everyone in the petroleum scented waiting room think I am a heinous bitch.
I pull into the Texaco Xpress-Lube (and lord knows you should bring some, at the prices they charge…) and pull into a parking spot. No sooner have I turned the key off, a burly man, bald shaved head, looking like he just got off of parole, comes sauntering up to my car. This guy looks quite triumphant as I waltz out of my pickup, giant Coach purse in tow, tilt my diva purple-leopard sunglasses and say, “I just need an oil change.” I toss him my keys and go into the waiting room, where you feel dirty just breathing in the air. I wish I would have brought me some Starbucks, I sigh… then remember I have a packet of their VIA stashed in my purse for emergencies… I look at the pot they have in the corner of coffee that may have well been used motor oil, and water that was tinted about the same shade… no gracias, I am not about to die of cholera infested water today… I sit down.
Moments later, oil change man has come to the counter with a piece of paper… I already know what is about to happen… He is going to call me up and tell me all the millions of filters that need to be changed in my truck or some other crap. I think they do this to women because they think we have not a clue in this world what is going on with a vehicle… and if you happen to be one of those women.. then God bless your poor wretched soul… The day I got a driver’s permit was the day my Daddy made me change the oil and work on it myself. Here he goes… “Miss uh Woodell?” “WoodALL” I correct him. Seriously…. 2 syllables.. it’s phonetic.. Wood, All. “You have 125,000 miles on that truck, right?” “Something like that…” I reply. “Well, you see… there is some stuff that needs to happen to keep this thing a runnin’.” He starts jotting down a list of fluids and differentials and filters… high mileage oil, after the hen scratches and calculator buttons flying… my $40 oil change has now just become $700. I stare at him with a look that could scare the devil himself… “No, just a standard oil change… with an oil filter.” “But Ma’am!..” I interrupt, “Oil… Change… only….” Now he says he needs my address to put in the system… He’s probably going to come slash my tires later. “203, Jennifer Ln. and that’s here in Bastrop” I tell him. “Jennifer Ln.! Well, dead gum! You live on your own street don’t ye?” He replies, with a thick twang that would even make Jeff Foxworthy want to puke. “Well did they name it after you or was it already like that?” He asks. “Already there,” I humor him, “anything else?” “Nope, that’ll do it!” he says, and I go sit back down. The next 10 minutes go by like hours as another woman comes in with her daughter’s Lexus. I hear her go through the same thing… like a moron, she accepts the deal and sits down and tells me her life story… Does it look like I want to talk to you? I think to myself. Once I’m free, I write the check, get into my truck, to discover the asshole has changed my radio station! Why do they do that? Do you need to listen to my radio that bad? I peel out of the parking lot and pass Autozone… next time, I am doing it myself…
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