So I drove out to my mechanic's today to see how my long ago promised (future) supercar is doing. The transmission has been completely disassembled and put back together with no problems found, but it's still not dropping into fourth. The tranny guys think it's the linkage, and the linkage guy thinks it's the tranny, so tomorrow I'm supposed to head out there and drive out with him to the desert where the shop is so we can all see what's up together and choose the next step.
I asked him what time we should go, and he replied by pantomiming holding a beer and making repeated chugging motions — I guess the guys at junkyard have a bit of a drinking problem so we're heading over at 10:30 in the morning to ensure that they're not totally trashed.
I'm still missing Rachel like crazy (and that's an understatement), but not as much as this little three legged dog is missing his leg* thanks to his apparent itch.
"When I first met Shannon Larratt, he was dirty, disheveled, and had a strong but sickly sweet smell of coffee about him..."
I'm sort of an absent minded professor character I think. While driving down to Cabo to meet them at the airport, we stopped at a gas station to get a drink — I got a bottled cold coffee spiked with guarana. It's got a strange packaging that always tears apart when you pop the cap off, so after doing so, I started blabbering about that which got me distracted.
It's also one of those “shake before drinking” beverages, so naturally I did that, but without bothering to put the lid back on, which sprayed half a bottle of coffee all over me and the leather seats of Rachel's Escalade EXT. She was understandably unthrilled!!! I am very lucky she wasn't in the car with me today, because I pulled exactly the same stunt (albeit with less stench), soaking myself as a bottle of shaken mineral water sprayed all over me and the car.
* Bring on the jokes about his BME/extreme membership.
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