Half of being smart, they say, is knowing what you're dumb at. So when it comes to cars, I'm on my way to being a genius.

I hate taking my car to the shop for repairs. I'm always clueless when I walk in. You know that dream where you show up at school naked on the day of the big test that you forgot to study for? That's what I feel like when I take my car to the mechanic, even after they let me pull my pants back up.

Don't get me wrong, I know plenty about automobiles. I know, for instance, where the ignition key goes, unless it's a Saab or one of those new hybrids. And I know that if a vehicle has four wheels and flies, chances are very good that it's a garbage truck. But most importantly, when I'm crossing the street and see headlights coming right at me, I know how to get out of the way — so even if I don't know a LOT about cars, I can take comfort in knowing more than a squirrel does.

Guys are supposed to grow up knowing everything there is to know about cars, but as a teenager all I learned about my car was that asking for directions will get you laughed at, driving fast will get you a ticket, and taking your date to the drive-in will get you nowhere when you have bucket seats.

If my car starts making a funny noise, I have a special trick called "turning up the radio". That works until the car starts smoking, which is why I keep an emergency supply of Nicorette in the glove box.

Of course, if someone is in the car with me, they expect me to get out and look at the engine. "Aha," I say during these moments, pointing at the engine, "that's the engine." It may be a waste of my time, but I'm confident that, if my engine were completely missing or perhaps replaced by a hamster on a track, I would immediately recognize the problem.

Sometimes I wonder if ANYONE knows much about cars. I think mechanics are as clueless as the rest of us. My experience is they just replace expensive parts until they get lucky or the customer buys a new car. Mechanics start at the top of their parts list and work their way down, alphabetically — alternator, brakes, catalytic converter — until they're just making things up completely. (If your mechanic ever says you need a ypsilanti or a zamboni replacement, God help you.)

Think about it. Have you ever noticed that anytime your car starts acting funny, they always say it's a problem with the alternator? No matter what the car's doing, the mechanic will say, "Yep, that sounds like an alternator problem." I once made the mistake of asking what an alternator does, which is how I learned the alternator is a critical part of your car's electrical system that's designed to charge your credit card and empty your wallet.

But if cars are impossible to figure out, my friend Wally Basmati's mother is the exception that proves the rule. Mrs. Basmati knows everything you need to know about cars.

One summer, Wally's family went camping and a bear opened their cooler and ate all their food. So while Wally and his dad went fishing to catch breakfast, Mrs. Basmati decided to hike out to their car, parked a mile away, to drive into town for groceries. About 45 minutes later, Mrs. Basmati walked back into camp empty-handed and told her husband she wasn't able to start the car.

"The engine is flooded," she told her husband.

"Flooded! You must be kidding me?"

But Mrs. Basmati insisted, and together they hiked to where they had parked the car. When they got there, the car was missing.

Wally's dad was shocked. "What happened to the car?"

"I told you," Mrs. Basmati said, shaking her finger at him, "the engine is flooded. You forgot to set the parking brake, and the car rolled right down the hill and into the lake."

At least it wasn't the alternator.

Copyright © 2007 Andy Murphy
Please do not remove the copyright from this work.

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