Yesterday, Rawr came to me while a vehicular issue. It seemed earlier in the day her SUV tried to kill itself at the gas station and Rawr was lucky to have made it home.
(Listen, I need to have a talk with this gal. If she thinks I have ANY idea how to fix cars, I've been doing too good a job at hiding who I really am. Which is a girl. Who just barely bought her first tool kit because they've been out of the pink one for two months and it doesn't appear that anyone at Target knows how to use a re-order form so the grey one was going to have to work. Yeah. That kind of girl.)
I followed Rawr over to her house and we popped the hood, peering into the depths of the engine compartment.
We stood in front of the car with our chins resting in our hands, looking puzzled.
We tried banging on the black thingie with the hose coming out of one end.
Rawr bent over the edge of the engine with her butt hanging out like all the hot girls do.
We even tried kicking the tire. Everything you see in a movie, we tried.
My dad is good with cars, so I spent twenty minutes on the phone with him trying to diagnose what Rawr's car was doing. Or not doing, I guess. Something in the steering was being affected, so my dad told us to check the power steering fluid. Rawr bent to locate the fluid thingie-ma-bob while I thanked my dad.
Before hanging up, my dad asked inquired as to whether or not I had checked an/or changed the oil in my car.
Me: [puzzled] I thought you said you just changed it up at your house.
Dad: Nooo.... you said it was running low and it needed changing.
Me: [freaking out] It's been like, TWO THOUSAND MILES SINCE THEN. Am I running around without oil?!
Dad: Oh. Hey! I thought I was talking to your sister this entire time.
Me: I see.
Yes. Elle and I do sound eerily similar on the phone, and yes, we have used this to our advantage at times.
And the car is still broken.