This morning at the lights, I had a real shock. I thought my brakes were going to fail. This was the beginning of a realisation that my cousin Tyler is absolutely a jerk.
I loaned my wagon to him while I went overseas. I got it back yesterday and I am really wondering what he’s been up to, considering I nearly sailed through a red.
Ok. So it appears I missed some vital signs. I should’ve realised that the tank on empty and the stink of stale fried chicken (found two empty take away bags under the passenger seat) were signs I needed to do a thorough examination.
It feels like I need a brake replacement. Ringwood has an abundance of places I could go, but there’s a workshop I know that has a great reputation so I’m not worried about finding a mechanic I can trust. Straight to the mechanic from work on my lunch break. There’s a great workshop in Ringwood that services all cars. By great, I mean trustworthy, unlike my cousin, Tyler.
But seriously, what’s my car been put through over the last six weeks? I probably should’ve known better than to loan my car to someone who is glued to video games and has a countdown app for Nascar on his phone.
My cousin isn’t a terrible person but I’m having a hard time not thinking of ways to torture him when I realise the tread on my tires looks pretty grim. I have a feeling the reason he was in such a hurry to get moving when I came round to pick up my ride this morning. I’d thought he was just stretched for time.
I tried his number on my break to see if he’d fess up to anything or let me know what else to expect, but he wouldn’t answer. I booked in with the mechanic and thought of ways to casually drop into conversation with my Aunt, Tylers Mum, that he’s up for quite a bit of coin for obliterating my wheels. So what’s appropriate punishment for this gormless rev-head? Need some ideas!