My mechanically inclined neighbor is always offering his opinion on everything. A good guy, but a busybody and rather judgmental. He was smiling victoriously, mockingly really, as I backed out of the driveway yesterday with my brakes squealing. I know he was gloating about how much better he takes care of his cars, and he does.
Anyway I fixed the brakes, but I am now going to create an mp3 file of every audible car defect I can find, roll down my window, and play varying grinding and squeaking and backfiring noises through a portable speaker, as loud as possible, as I drive by when he is in his garage working, not making eye contact. He will become increasingly bewildered as my car continues to function, and will finally ask when the hell I am going to fix it.
“There’s nothing wrong with my car.”
“Uh, Rob are you deaf??? It sounds like it’s in its last legs! Brakes, clutch, transmission, motor. You shouldn’t even be driving it. Fix it!!!”
“What noise?” I’ll ask in all innocence.
I’ll offer to start it up and ask him to point out the noise. I can keep this going for months.