I talked to my doctor the other day. He said my head gasket was blown, my transmission was shoddy, and my fuel injector was gummed up.
He said he would try to help, but he couldn’t fix me. My wife suggested I get a second opinion.
So, I saw my therapist soon afterwards. He said I needed a full diagnostic for my on-board computer, and that my air intake regulator could use an adjustment.
He said he could help me, but I needed to make a serious commitment to long-term maintenance. You couldn’t put a value on your health, right?
Again, my wife suggested I get another perspective.
When I took my car into the shop, I had a chat with my mechanic. She told me I wasn’t a fucking car, and that I should seek professional help.
I told her, that was how all this nonsense began.