A 'Wrenching' Experience

I’m really not very good at ‘cussin’ so I decided I’d hire a professional, like a mechanic.

Mechanics, in case you weren’t aware, typically have a limited vocabulary with a few short words, mostly no more than four letters which explains why they have to use them over and over again. Despite their verbal deficiencies, they are quite adept at using profanity. For instance, I was not aware that there were so many different ways to say “!!@!%**#@!” (excrement!) It must be a very versatile word because it seems it’s used for every conceivable experience and circumstance. I think it must be kind of a one-size-fits-all word. For standards of literary quality as well as to protect my readers’ modesty, I opted to use ‘excrement’ in place of its’ monosyllabic counterpart. I imagine any prospective employee always concludes his interview with a ‘cussin’ demonstration to prove that he is a verifiable mechanic. “Cussin’ is usually given a bum rap but I can assure you that it isn’t as easy as it sounds. I can use the same words, it just doesn’t have the same effect as when uttered by a true master of the medium.

I remember when my brother and I were just learning to drive. On our cold wintry Missouri mornings, it became a daily ritual to get our car jumped off every day before it would start. This involved a call to the local service station, whose sole mechanic, ‘Gus’ obviously didn’t appreciate the fact that we were such loyal customers. He’d have to lock up the store and drive two blocks to jump off our reluctant car. We could hear him coming all the way from the station, ‘cussin’ the entire way up our drive. This alarmed me while it greatly amused and inspired my brother who promptly composed a short but eloquent poem for the occasion. It went something like this.

“Don’t ‘cuss’, call Gus! He’ll ‘cuss’ for both of us!”

If you’ve ever wondered just why mechanics are prone to expressive outbursts of rage and obscenity, just open the hood. You will be confronted with a morass of wires and hoses and unknown foreign objects, one of which I assume is the engine.

My theory is that cars are actually assembled in Roswell, NM where the aliens actually landed. Immediately the auto industry lobbied to make them work in assembly lines in retribution for landing on the planet in non-union vehicles, at least until they pay off their back union dues. Now these little interstellar visitors obviously are not put together the same way we are. I’m thinking they’re probably have long, thin flexible arms and fingers that are double jointed and therefore can bend into awkward positions that earthbound people with normal anatomies cannot. And of course, they also have little sockets on the end of their fingers.

If you doubt my conclusions, just open the hood and look for yourself.

And you’ll probably feel a sudden urge to ‘cuss’ yourself!