I haven’t applied myself to DIY in anything. It has been labour-lightening to pay workmen to fix fractures, while pursuing more mental and sensual interests. So journeymen have always had their say and way with me. I tried a new mechanic yesterday, and found, to my horror, that my existing ‘expert’ was killing Maxine (my car). Allowing for the possibility that the new man was badmouthing the old in order to acquire the Maxine retainer, I discovered that Maxine was running hairy low on all essential liquids but petrol. And Maxine was serviced only a couple of weeks ago! Further, a constant, queer quivering was the outcome of a-dime-a-dozen replacement parts purchased ‘brand new’ by Old Mechanic with my nostril-hair-tweezed savings.
I’ve suffered too much to trust wholly in them, but I still have too little time for Maxine and the other things I call my own. I keep a few books strewn in dark, un-dusted nooks at home. One of them treats automobiles. I’m going to devour it whole this weekend, and make sure that no Accra mechanic takes Maxine for a ride, with or without me in her. My verdict on the new mechanic – he solved Maxine’s strange shivering, and created another one which simply wasn’t there in the morning. A rattling sound is singing sickly songs under the bonnet even on very smooth roads. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll start reading up on DIY even before the weekend comes! When basic auto repair, carpentry and plumbing are required, I'm going to fix it by DIM. Now, that’s said, oh for the time to fulfil this one-thousandth wish!