I'm tight where it counts, baby

I'm pleased to report to I finally made time to get my beloved mobile money pit (i.e. the Z3) in for repairs. Although my suspicions of a slipping clutch proved false, the front suspension needed everything from rocker arms to bushings. I had already scoped this out a couple of months ago when my cut-rate mechanic installed new struts; he's not really set up to do more than basic repairs, but he didn't mind identifying and showing me the rocker arm problems.

After the suspension repairs and a front end alignment, the car handles magnificently. All I need to do now is to challenge O.D.D.*  to a 1/4 mile or 1/2 mile race (he owns a vintage Corvette) at some suitable after-midnight venue, preferably when there's a full moon. Winner f*cks the loser.

Now that I've shown the important parts some love, I can start thinking about getting the front spoiler, or bumper, or whatever they're called here fixed. It was partially ripped off a while back when some eegit in a large truck literally ran me halfway off the road - I had no choice but to go up a curb, hence the damage.  My temporary fix was to buy one of those silly bra thingies to hold the torn bit in place. This was rather embarrassing, especially to my acquaintances who had heard me describe this accessory as juvenile.

However, it's kind of fun to ask the car wash guy to "please wash under my bra".  

* See Key to Characters at right.