Airbags are dangerous! We watched this youtube video over and over again on the projector screen as a demonstration of how dangerous airbags can be. I’ve never heard such raucous laughter from my classmates before. We must have watched in a dozen times. Watch and you’ll see why.
Let’s meet some new people!
After-market upgrades can be dangerous! When having electrical components installed, please go to competent technicians. Meet The Jock. He’s buff. And wears very stylish glasses. Who was that American Idol candidate who ended up with his own line of eyeglass designs? The Jock could totally do that. Anyway, his brother wanted to upgrade his audio system so he had a tricked out system installed on the cheap. They didn’t add the proper fuses and a few days later, his car burned to the ground. Many insurance policies won’t pay for after-market upgrades and he signed a waiver about the system before the installation (another hint that it might not be on the up-and-up). So dude was up you-know-what creek without a paddle. Lesson: You sometimes get what you pay for.
Amateur Technicians can be dangerous! Meet The Amateur. He fixes cars in his down time, and it seems like he keeps pretty busy doing it. But he’s not always so good at it. Let’s call him a work-in-progress. Everyone knows (hey--even I can tell this is a good idea) that you should close all the doors of a vehicle before backing it out of the garage. Well, an afternoon brake job turned into a two-week debacle when he ripped off the driver’s side door of a car. His customer was not a happy camper. But, hey--he tries. Just remember: paying your neighbor to fix your brakes on the cheap won’t always work out in your favor.
He works at Express Oil Change during the day and his hands are always dirty. I’ve been deliberating on his Buxom Wrench name and it wasn’t until he came to class with a red bandanna around his neck like he just came in from a train heist that I figured it should be The Bandit. He’s another very knowledgeable car guy, but heartily disagreed with Jiffy and Boom-Box about whether it’s better to super-charge a racecar or install a twin-turbo. Whew! It was a close few minutes in the class--I was starting to think it would come down to fisticuffs.
It took 13 class days before I heard him say anything other than “here” during roll call. That’s thirteen 4-hour classes. 52 total hours of almost complete silence. And he only broke the streak when The Amateur accosted him during one of our breaks and accused him of being antisocial. He denied it; he just prefers to listen to everyone else and not say anything during class. And then I borrowed a dime from him so I could buy a Diet Coke from the vending machine.
We’ve lost The Kid. He was the one who graduated from the tech high school. Maybe he was more advanced than us and decided to drop the class.
The Mumbler found me out! The thing about the Mumbler is that, even though his resting position is with his head tilted slightly and his mouth agape, he notices more than I think he does. He knows that I talk about all my classmates to my friends and has seen me writing in my little blue notebook (I take class notes in it too). He came over to visit me during one of our breaks and our conversation went something like this:
The Mumbler: “Is that your little blue book where you write down everything about us?”
Me (suspiciously): “Um, yeah...”
The Mumbler: “Did you write down that I’m fat?”
The Mumbler: “Did you write down that I’m ugly?”
The Mumbler: “Well, then you’re telling lies.”
I simply smiled at him.
The Mumbler: “I bet you have a website and one of those blogs, don’t you?”
Uh oh. If my boys find out about this blog I might have to quit class! I have a feeling that my status as the class pet only gives me a limited amount of leeway.