The previous driver skimped out on maintenance. Now, as the new driver, his old problems are now my problems. If only vehicles could repair themselves.

You tell me that your vehicle of love doesn’t start the same way it used too.
I find the problem immediately, and start removing the leak. After removing the gas vapor recovery system, I notice gas is pouring out into the ground. Plugging the hole, I check the gas tank. She’s full of bad fuel. I empty the tank, and find that the gas has been cut with water. There’s your problem. Fire and water don’t mix, and just adding more fuel won’t get rid of the problem. Your past decisions affect how you start today.

You can’t paint on top of rust. You have to remove the cancer, or else it will spread through the body, and eventually eat the frame. When you cut out the oxide, you fill in the hole with non metallic putty. Once it dries, you sand it down smooth, primer, and paint it. Since paint wears at different rates, the newly painted area will stand out. To blend it properly, you must sand, prime, and repaint the entire car. Unfortunately, the fixed body work will never be as strong as it was new, and the affected area is no longer magnetic.

Worn transmissions will slip if you flush the old fluid out. This is because the old fluid contains bits and pieces of the memorable clutch, which increases the friction capacity of the fluid. With a worn clutch, more energy is transferred between engine and transmission. Over time, this increased viscosity and energy will increase the pressure in the veins of the machine, the clutch fragments sanding down the walls, and eventually, a seal will blow out, and the life fluid will spray everywhere until the machine grinds to a deathly halt. The only way to fix this is to completely rebuild the transmission one piece at a time, and put new fluid in. Cost and time wise, it’s better to just try another transmission. But people are more than a transmission. Sometimes, we get too emotionally involved, and we dig a hole to the center of the earth. A transmission cannot repair itself; it needs the help of a mindful mechanic.

On an old candle,
The wicks, like man,
Have piled upon themselves.
Do we reach our highest point?
Drawing up our oil.
Only to extinguish.

I like chests and *****

Whispers of an old candle,
Evening sunset over the hills,

Remembering the lost sandal,
A match illuminates a row of pills,
Clocking my punch card in,
Everyone around me, fading away,

In a race, life is thrown in a bin,
Never having time for play,

Drawing up the oil,
Urban toil, covering the soil,
Only to extinguish