Another salute to one of the many people that keep the Hambox Empire going.

As I broadcast to every human in the world within earshot: I have a long, hard commute. I’ve already put an unspeakable amount of miles on my new (to me) car, and recently, my braking ability became somewhat squishy and definitely screechy. So, a visit was in store to Harry, my car guy. I miss him — we met often during the years I had my tiny 92 Nissan with the massive problems. In fact, I was such a regular that I

• became quite familiar with Field & Stream — the only non-automotive magazine reading option in the waiting room.
• researched the history of the shop’s buildings. The front office used to be a church and the garages were a morgue!
• learned that mechanics often sit around during smoke breaks and look at pictures of girlies. And they don’t stop even when urged by me to stop being so darn stereotypical.
• was given an Armenian recipe for a onion-based restorative soup that can also be a poultice (?!) Hivand em.
• have my picture on Harry’s bulletin board. Not a girlie pic, perv — the one above. That’s Harry.

I don’t think and don’t care about the weird sexism that seems to be involved with women and cars and mechanics. Me, I don’t know happen to know from cars, and Harry does. He fixes my car, and I pay him money — usually a mildly cold-sweat amount, and rarely a chest-pain amount. Works for me.

nablopomo 07 day 14