This Old Air Filter
Yesterday, Jason became my very own Xzibit. Or automedic, or whetever you call someone who brings the life back to your eighteen-year-old, four-wheeled, hunk of sentimentality. After hearing me mention several times now my many tactics for getting my car to start on the first try, he thought it might be a good idea to change out the air fiter. When he saw the black lung that had been choking my car for, well, potentially the last sixteen years, he ran back up to the kitchen to show me. I felt like a smoker in health class. I guess I've committed one of the cardinal sins of car maintenance, but I'll admit to having a very small idea of how these things work... why oh why are we not forced to learn these things in high school?