Wal-Butt and The New Car Saga, Part Two.

Breezy orange highway
Originally uploaded by studiosound.

I'm a-goin' to Saint Louis tomorrow morning!

Jes reeealy wants to see the incomparable Billy Corgan, and I love SP.

So we're picking up in my nifty Maxima and are heading down, er, up there!

Woohoo! Road Trip!

Oh yea, don't ever go to Wal-Mart. As if that were news to anyone.

I took my Maxima, a perfectly running vehicle there to get an oil change. Baaad idea. Those fcuk balls. I dropped it off, came back an hour later and paid for it. I started up my car and my RPMs started way too HIGH! My eyes glazed over with rage. They screwed up my car! So I marched back in there and made a complaint. Turns out, Billy Numbnuts couldn't figure out how to remove my oil filter. Nothing about that on the reciept! He was going to let us leave without doing his actual job! That just enrages me. Even worse, he said the car's RPMs were doing that already when it came in.

LIES SEEP FROM HIS EVIL LIPS! I later found out what he had done: trying to pull the filter out, he pulled back my throttle line (directly above the filter) and got it wrapped around something. So to conclude...I hate Wal Mart. I shall dub thee Wal-Butt from hence-forth.

I fixed the throttle problem, but I'm going to take it to Midas at the beginning of the next week. Tune-ups are good for me!

I also have another tale of my car. Last week I decided to get autu insurance for my new Snowmobile. My old car was through Farmer's, so I might as well continue through them. Not too expensive and my main office has been very nice to me.

So I drop by during my lunch and go inside. I shake hands, tell him of my new car and give him the VIN number from my car, taken from my reciept from the Auction. He types in the numbers, and we ait for the little computer to register.

'THIS NUMBER DOES NOT MATCH THE VEHICLE MODEL PLEASE REENTER THE NUMBER'

My eyes bulge. I've seen this kind of thing happen on Dateline! My car must be stolen! I--I--

'Let's get the number off of the car. It may ba a typo,' the guy says to me.

So we go outside and look in through the window. This car has the oddest font for the VIN. It looked more like Klingon than numbers. But slowly we begin to decipher the numbers.

Aha! one of the numbers was written down wrong!

We go inside and try again. Success! my car isn't stolen or anything! Yay!

So now tonight I'm going to a mansion in Southeast Tulsa to help some rich feller sell his car, in exchange for a cool hundred spot. Yay for capitalism.

Time to leave! G'day.