| Make This Motion Count |

Using your first car is a lot like getting into a relationship for the first time:
You just didn’t realise they could be so weird.

It is now almost winter in Grahamstown, and for my cranky (I mean delovely) City Golf, it means that starting up is oh, so, optional. Bitchface. She’s left me stranded way too many times this week, so I decided to give my friendly mechanic a call.
This happens to happen in between my Italian tuts, and after receiving really horrible personal news, so I was already like O.o
Then Ms City Golf decides to plonk her ass down in the middle of campus, in the middle of the day.
Wessons immediately sent a car to come jumpstart me, and the sweetest ole boet came round to help me.
After realising that my knowledge of machines is, well, almost entirely non-existent, he had a good chuckle and then led me to the workshop.
In my brilliant state of lucidity, I took a few wrong turns and took the scenic route before arriving at the workshop a lot later than he did.
We finally got the car in and while he proceeded to have a look at it, I regaled the mechanics at the counter with a regal display of my self-control by bursting into tears and ever so dramatically exclaiming “Do you have a bathroom!?”

Having admonished my over-excited tear-ducts, I went back to look manly in front of the men hovering over my open bonnet. I’m not quite sure what happened next, I just remember the words sparks and plugs and battery water and elements and no ey ey let’s juuuus hav a quickie look in here ey

And next thing you know my car was running again! A very determined mechanic swore he would get to the bottom of this, and I was to call him should the car ever pass out again. All of this, pretty much for free, except the call out fee.
I was pretty impressed.
And it is the same company who also gave me flowers when I found a bunch of keys that they lost.
And for all the warnings of dodgy mechanics tricking naive girls with their vast knowledge of manly machineries, they’ve had various opportunities to rip me off, yet never have! I really appreciate honesty with customers, and a bunch of flowers every now and then is just plain cute 😛

But wait! Part 2 of my exciting car story! (You can tell I am procrastinating on doing real work…)
Last night, Ms Golf decided to pull her tricks again, and left me stranded a few minutes before rehearsal. I had already reached my tear quota for the day or I would have bawled. This morning one of the Wessons guys comes over, muchos professional and determined to exorcise this wench’s demon, and instead of charging me beeleeonz, he just shows me a little trick to do with the accelerator pedal -before- turning the ignition key.
On one hand, you could look at this and say, Marty, you are a moron, who the heck gave you your licence?!
Or you could say hey, pretty nice guys, instead of messing her around, they showed her a free and easier way to deal with the issue.


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