Standing at the service counter at a dealership:
Mechanic: “What happened.”
Me: “I was driving along, everything silky smooth. Then all hell broke loose. The damn truck shook like a meth addict dividing by zero.”
Mechanic: “It was a violent shake?”
Me: “I believe I shit myself.”
Mechanic: “Vibration from the drivetrain?”
Me: “I don’t think so. I’ve got years of experience driving pieces of shit with bad drive trains. This wasn’t anything like that. It was a whole new dimension of totally unbelievably fucked.”
Mechanic: “Sounds like a ‘death wobble’.”
Me: “The words are descriptive, you have my attention.”
Mechanic: “A violent oscillation of the front steering geometry…”
Me: “Yes!”
Mechanic: “Yeah, we see that a lot.”
Me: “You see that? A lot?”
Mechanic: “Yeah, it happens.”
Me: “To whom? NASCAR drivers impacting the wall?”
Mechanic: “Ha ha ha… You want me to look at it?”
Me: “Yeah. Here’s the keys. Take your time.”
Mechanic: “It could take a bit.”
Me: “I’m going to walk over to the Starbucks across the street. I’m going to plant my ass and stay there as long as you need.”
Mechanic: “Shook that much eh?”
Me: “At Starbucks… I’ll be drinking decaf…”
Mechanic: “Well I…”
Me: “…forever.”
Mechanic: “I’ll call your cell when I know.”
Me: “I’m staying at Starbucks. I’m giving up blue collar activities. I’m going to buy a Prius… then I’ll pay someone to drive it and someone else to ride in it… while I do nothing but walk… walk slowly. …and write poems.”
Mechanic: “…”
Me: “Poems about tea…”