Long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, was a young mustached American driving down the back roads of rural Rensselaer County with his woman. It was late at night, the air was brisk, the moonlight was bright and you can hear the howl of that autumn wind sweep down across the vast mountainous landscape. Some would say that young mustached American was joyriding; others would say he was just cruising. I would say you are both correct because that’s like getting into a fight on whether the moon was above or over the horizon. Sure you’re gonna become enraged and throw ice chunks at one another arguing who is correct, but in the end you’ll realize that you’re both dumbasses and laugh over it and drink beer….I was correct, dick.

On that dark autumn night, the young mustached American continued his midnight cruise. I looked over at my woman and said “Give me some suga” and like the good woman she was, she did. The night continued, I was smoking a fat Dutch Masters cigar and listening to Led Zeppelin when a problem arose. The motor of that 1985 Chevy Monte Carlo, also named Sally, started to hesitate. A fowl smell invaded the cockpit of this fine ass machine. The smell so fowl that you couldn’t help but say “what the fuck” beaver tooth and all. The idiot light on the dashboard came on indicating that the oil was in need of changing. I then pulled over to assess the situation.

I popped the hood of Sally and was overcome by fumes of an engine in distress. You would think the hoarseness of my cough and my agonizing throat clear were sure signs of a smoker having an asthmatic episode, but it was not.

“EDADS!” I exclaimed, “Sally is in need of an oil change”

I then realized I didn’t have AutoTech until Thursday. “Fuck” I said, I got on my knees, “Damn you all to hell!” I shouted into the night sky. You know like those dramatic scenes were the actor shouts “nooooo!”. Yeah it was something like that. Well I knew what I had to do.

It seemed like generations had passed before I had the opportunity to work on Sally, it was actually only a day. I pulled Sally into the auto shop and began the task of changing her oil. I parked her in the bay and aligned the arms of the lift in the proper position and lifted her ass off the ground. As I completed this task, Galcik walked by and goes “Hey man” and continued his business. Once she was in the air, I grabbed the proper tools and struggled to get the nut off the oil pan to drain the oil. I became infuriated and began to cuss like a rapper at a throw down. Phil then came over to take over my task and I angrily snarled at him,

“It's my car, I’ll change the oil” beaver tooth and all.

Once I got the nut off, Sally began to piss out the bad oil into the drain pan. Holy Guacamole I thought to myself. Ah, who am I kidding, I said “Holy Shit, the oil is blacker than the night sky!” I couldn’t believe it. I can’t remember if it was Dutcher or Phil but they explained when you put off your oil change for so long, your engine will run like shit and the oil becomes like tar. I pondered for a moment, I’ve had Sally for about 7 months now and changed the oil once…makes sense to me. Nevertheless, I changed the oil filter and put in the new motor oil and Sally was fixed. The day was saved, and Sally went on to live another day.