The Honda gets an oil change...

I'm not a fan of having to take my car for its routine maintenance. It was always awesome when my grandpa used to do that for us, and now I'm stuck taking my Accord to the dealership for this stuff. I especially dislike it because they already tried to tell me that since my car had almost 100,000 miles on it, that I should consider trading it in. I mean, it was going to need a new timing belt and all that stuff soon and it would cost me like $1500. I can definitely see the smart move there: buy a different car for $15000 when I only owe $2000 on mine...in the end I'd save that $1500, right. But I'd have another 3-4 years of payments. Sure, let's get on that right now. Durrrrr.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm looking for a new car. I plan on driving this one until it falls apart. And if I do need a new timing belt, I'll let YOU know."

"Ok, ma'am, but we just want to warn you of the potential risk."

"I like a little risk in my life...how do you think I got this rash?"

Meanwhile, Moose is pulling in with his little wagon.

"Yes, I need the tires on this beast to be rotated and balanced. And check the pressure in those bad boys, will you? I take some speed bumps like a demon and need to make sure I got some good balance. Cops almost caught me last time and if I don't have good speed, I might get caught next time."

"Sir, we don't work on wagons, and besides, these tires don't have air and it's just a measly little steel rod that connects them."

"Oh, well, then can you paint it and put big flames on the sides?"

"Uh, sure, I guess we can do that..."

"Thanks, bro, way to hook a brotha uuuuuuupppppp! My mom'll tip you. She's money bags."

He walks away with a slight pimp limp and gives a quick "what up" nod to the front desk clerk, Peggy. I said, "Moose, seriously, you don't walk like that and I'm pretty sure your little Transformers backpack doesn't fall into the pimp category. Leave Peggy alone."

After some time, the technician informs me I need new brakes and rotors as well as new tires. I said, "Yeah, I'm getting new tires soon. What will the brakes/rotors cost?"

"Oh, around $700."

"Oh, that's all? I think it'd be cheaper if you just cut a hole in floorboard and I'll settle for Flintstone brakes. Thanks."

"Ok, well, again...we just want to let you know of the risk."

"I appreciate that, and as I said before too...how do you think I got these bumps?"

"I thought you said it was a rash?"

"I got both, it's a combo deal. What, you jealous or somethin'?"

"Alrighty then, how about we just get you on outta here."

"Sounds good to me."

As I'm paying, Moose comes tearing around the corner on two wheels with his little wagon. And not just that, but he's got the technician behind him in the wagon as well..."Yeeeaaaaaaah, baby!!! We got this thing blazin' and ain't nobody got a Wiener Wagon like this!!!"

I roll my eyes, the technician looks at me and I simply say, "That's my son. He's his own kinda creature."

We left the dealership with Moose having made even more friends. This little guy is a magnet like no other.