Things went pretty well until I walked into his office.

My regular mechanic is on vacation, so I bought two new rear tires from another local mechanic. I didn't have any choice--I totalled one tire with my flat earlier in the week and there was no way I was driving the Marnmobile around on the stupid little puny spare it came with.

The tire change was fast and efficient, the price was reasonable. I was actually considering keeping this guy in mind as a back-up mechanic. That is, until I walked into that office to pay him.

Okay, I was in a garage and I know it's practically a religious requirement for a garage to have a calendar on the premises depicting a bare naked lady, but what we had in that room went way, way beyond a calendar off in a corner.

Everywhere you looked your eyes were met with a pair of headlights, and we ain't talking the ones you see on cars, eh. People, that room was the Basilica of Boobs, the Temple o' TaTa's.

I scanned the room for a safe place to look and thought I had found a relatively innocuous figure study only to realize I was looking at three women touching each other in very private places.

Oh dear.

I think there's a time and place for erotica and porn. What any of us does in the privacy of our own homes is between us and our browser caches. But oh man, when I don't know you and I'm sitting in your place of business at 10 a.m. on a Thursday morning, the last thing I want to learn about you is that lesbian threesomes turn your crank.

So as he prepared my bill, I developed a profound fascination with the view out his office window. I don't normally take much interest in piles of old tires, scrap metal and half rusted out cars, but hey, there's always a first time, right?

I paid him cash. I gestured around the room and told him I wouldn't be back. He gave me a look of contempt, as if to say that I was some sort of dried up old prude. You have no idea how much that ticked me off. I can't believe I gave this guy some of my hard-earned money. I've been cranky about this ever since.

Ah well, I've learned my lesson. No more slutting around with the Marnmobile. From now on I will always be faithful to my current mechanic.

His idea of erotica? A calendar featuring classic Ford Mustangs from the 1960's. Gotta love that car porn, eh?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 360.25 miles (579.8 kilometers)
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers