So the auto repair shop is down the street from me. It looks like they’re going to need to keep the car through tomorrow because they think the trouble is a bad wire on a sparkplug at the back of the engine and they have to take off the intake to get to it. I’m assuming this is different from a “manifold”.

Whatever. Based on the weight in his voice when he warned me that this is what would be required it sounds like a pretty big deal. Removing the “intake”.

So they asked me to leave it with them and call back tomorrow around noon. So, that’s fine.

They also called me “Bwobby”

With a double-u. Just like they were from “Bwastin” or something.

I hate being called “Bwobby”. On the one hand, the way it ignores all formalities of every kind and goes straight to the nickname is kind of endearing. It makes me feel like they like me even though they don’t know me. But then a lot of salesmen do that so it makes me feel kind of skeevy; like they’re trying to pull one over on me. And the accent just makes me laugh.

Overall I don’t care for “Bwobby”.

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