Talking to Car Mechanics
It’s not that I’m ashamed or that I think that I should actually know something about engines. It’s just that it makes conversation so uncomfortable.
I can usually keep up for a short while. I make an appropriate ‘oof’ sort of sound when I can discern bad news, such as when something has ‘gone’
‘The dymanator’s gone’, he says.
‘Oof’, I reply.
Sometimes I will add the question, ‘big job?’ The answer to which I can never comprehend. Mechanics tend to think that the question relates to mechanical difficulty as opposed to duration. If it takes over twenty minutes then, to me, it constitutes a big job. To a mechanic, it’s not a big job unless it’s complicated. I don’t have to do the work, so that’s of no consequence to me.
The answer to ‘[is it a] big job?’ should, in my mind, be either ‘yes’ or ‘no’. It never is. It’s usually a barrage of jargon, involving ‘trimpling’ things and ‘quadrinating’. The best I can do is nod, look serious and hope that he doesn’t test me on anything he’s just said.
Ordinarily there is a lengthy list of car flaws that the mechanic will reel off to me. This is where it gets really tricky. In an ordinary conversation that I comprehend, I can react naturally. As I have no idea what’s going on in this situation, I react inaccurately and I am also unable to make any verbal contribution whatsoever. The conversation is out of my hands and it is full of potential pitfalls.
So as not to seem like a strange automaton, I usually progress through a series of reactions. At first I adopt a serious facial expression and acknowledge each engine defect with a low ‘okay’. After a few repetitions this starts to sound strange and perhaps even threatening. To lighten the mood I move onto a series of reactions which I like to call, ‘isn’t it funny how we non-mechanics let our ancient cars get in this condition’.
The purpose of these reactions is to indicate to the mechanic that the situation is beyond serious. The car is in such a terrible state of disrepair that you have to laugh, don’t you? Unfortunately, this is ludicrously inappropriate. The mechanic will be totally baffled as you laugh hysterically at each costly fault in your car. I really don’t know why I do this.
Finally, I try and just guess how serious each fault is and react accordingly. By this point the social pressure has got to me and I’m so demented that I can’t comprehend even the most straightforward sentence. I will look back on the conversation later and wonder quite how I reacted with a roll of the eyes and heartfelt ‘oh my God’ when the mechanic told me that I needed more screenwash.
I can usually keep up for a short while. I make an appropriate ‘oof’ sort of sound when I can discern bad news, such as when something has ‘gone’
‘The dymanator’s gone’, he says.
‘Oof’, I reply.
Sometimes I will add the question, ‘big job?’ The answer to which I can never comprehend. Mechanics tend to think that the question relates to mechanical difficulty as opposed to duration. If it takes over twenty minutes then, to me, it constitutes a big job. To a mechanic, it’s not a big job unless it’s complicated. I don’t have to do the work, so that’s of no consequence to me.
The answer to ‘[is it a] big job?’ should, in my mind, be either ‘yes’ or ‘no’. It never is. It’s usually a barrage of jargon, involving ‘trimpling’ things and ‘quadrinating’. The best I can do is nod, look serious and hope that he doesn’t test me on anything he’s just said.
Ordinarily there is a lengthy list of car flaws that the mechanic will reel off to me. This is where it gets really tricky. In an ordinary conversation that I comprehend, I can react naturally. As I have no idea what’s going on in this situation, I react inaccurately and I am also unable to make any verbal contribution whatsoever. The conversation is out of my hands and it is full of potential pitfalls.
So as not to seem like a strange automaton, I usually progress through a series of reactions. At first I adopt a serious facial expression and acknowledge each engine defect with a low ‘okay’. After a few repetitions this starts to sound strange and perhaps even threatening. To lighten the mood I move onto a series of reactions which I like to call, ‘isn’t it funny how we non-mechanics let our ancient cars get in this condition’.
The purpose of these reactions is to indicate to the mechanic that the situation is beyond serious. The car is in such a terrible state of disrepair that you have to laugh, don’t you? Unfortunately, this is ludicrously inappropriate. The mechanic will be totally baffled as you laugh hysterically at each costly fault in your car. I really don’t know why I do this.
Finally, I try and just guess how serious each fault is and react accordingly. By this point the social pressure has got to me and I’m so demented that I can’t comprehend even the most straightforward sentence. I will look back on the conversation later and wonder quite how I reacted with a roll of the eyes and heartfelt ‘oh my God’ when the mechanic told me that I needed more screenwash.
posted by Blue and Brown | 12:25 AM
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