The Problem with Cars

Okay, so I am a big fat liar of the pants on fire variety, and not tiny cat pants o'flame, but my own trousers. I have the greatest mechanic in Nashville. He fixes my car and keeps it running and changes my oil and watches out for things like keeping my tires rotated and, whenever something goes wrong with my car, I call up the Man from GM and tell him what's going on and he always says, "Oh, that's the bershabkicarls valve [or some other thing I don't know]. No problem. It'll run you about $100 to get it fixed." And I go to my mechanic and he says the same thing. I love him, as a mechanic. I do not want to date him. This morning, he called to tell me that my oil change was done (the other awesome thing, I can just drop my car off there, walk to work, and pick it up after work) and to ask me to dinner and a movie. So, I did just what I did when I was buying this car, and I felt like I had to defend myself from unscrupulous dealers who know more about cars than I do: I told him that my boyfriend would not approve--my "boyfriend," the Man from GM. God, I hope his girlfriend never reads this, because I am about to confess that I trot the Man from GM out as my boyfriend or fiancee on a regular basis when it comes to my car. When I was shopping for this car, I stood in a GM dealership looking at a Chevy Malibu pretending to have the Man from GM on the cell phone because I thought they were lying to me. When the guys at Jiffy Lube tried to sell me extra special windshield wiper blades and I didn't think they were going to give me my car back unless I spent $50 on something I can get at Walmart for less than $10, I started dialing the Man from GM's number to put him on the phone with them. All the time, I'm whipping out his office number and using it to ward off evil. If I had his business card, I'd have it laminated and wear it like a talisman around my neck whenever I had to deal with car folk. I don't want my mechanic repeatedly asking me out. That's the whole reason I cheated on him and went to Jiffy Lube last time--this has been a long-standing problem. But I also don't want to lose a good mechanic. So, I lie and say I have a boyfriend, and not just a boyfriend, but a boyfriend who knows cars as well as he does, so don't even try to start charging me for shit I don't need. But I don't like it. I especially don't like that I feel like I have to have a man with some authority at my fingertips in order to get my car serviced. I mean, I guess if it's a choice between unscrupulous jackasses and a good mechanic who kisses me on the cheek every time he sees me, I'm going with the "lie to the good mechanic to keep him at bay" thing. But it still feels wrong. What I need, I guess, is to find out where in Atlanta Big Boi takes his car. Because, I'd drive four hours to get my car serviced at that station; I'm that sure I wouldn't have this problem there. Plus, if Big Boi happened to be there at the same time, maybe shooting a follow-up to "I Like the Way You Move," we could talk about dogs. Ha, no, really, what I need to do is learn how to change my own oil.