An Ode To Waiting For An Oil Change At The Dealership

Oh, waiting room at the dealership filled with various deadened souls staring blankly at pasty walls as the thick scent of stale coffee hangs in the air. You are what I, and probably most of us, imagine limbo to be. It’s a nether realm between joy and torment. The joy exists in the hope that at any given minute our car will be ready, and we will ride away from this room that is perpetually frozen in time. The torment exists in the fact that, without a car and without friends to pick us up, this room will be our lives for the foreseeable future.

Your seats are glossy with the farts of hundreds of previous occupants, if leather, or stained brown by unkempt asses, if cloth. Your magazines are outdated, your newspapers in languages most cannot recognize. Your candy machines, while appreciated, have the battered look of machines that have been wounded by the many hundreds of people that have desperately turned their coin slot switches to receive sweet treats that will remind us of the pleasure of the outside world – pleasure that is fleeting, even though it gets stuck in our teeth and makes us think it will rip out our fillings.

Your television, which is clearly of the HD variety, is foggy, as if someone had smeared Boston baked beans all over it. The programming on said television is of no help, either. Watching reruns of the non-classic late 80s, early 90s cop drama In The Heat Of The Night on Fox at two in the afternoon make us all feel as though our lives have gone astray. No matter how successful and rich a person is, watching In The Heat Of The Night on Fox in the early afternoon makes us all feel like failures; like we should have taken that job or kissed that girl or have paid more attention in math class. Seriously, Fox; get some better day time programming. You bought the rights to In The Heat Of The Night and you’re riding that fucker in to the sunset.

These torments are what we, the soulless faces yearning for a taste of invigorating life, must slog through. And why? Because our cars need special grease that make them go vroom.  One day we will learn how to put this grease on our cars ourselves, but then again, we said something similar about learning guitar, learning Chinese, and programming that really expensive universal remote we bought, like, a year ago and never even opened.

One day we will learn to do this ourselves, and when that day comes, we shall…

Huh?

It’s ready?!

Fuck this article, I’m out!

Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-doooooooooooooooom!