Time for the Yearly Obligatory Inspection

So I got a courtesy call from my mechanic this week to let me know it was time for my annual inspection.  My car inspection, that is... I got my personal inspection last week at the gynecologist's.  Each year I wonder why you have to keep going to the gynecologist after you've had a hysterectomy... it's not like that sucker's gonna grow back or anything, so what are they looking for in there anyway?!

But, back to the topic at hand...

Vlad's car is also in my name, as insurance premiums tend to go up exponentially when a car is registered to a young male.  And it was time for his car to be inspected as well.  I decided to take his car in one day and mine the next.  (Vlad actually had to be at work before the shop opened, so it was up to me to make the morning delivery of combined auto parts that were still connected.)  I went out to get into his fine automobile, only to discover he had not yet unpacked it since he arrived home from college six weeks ago.  Including his dorm refrigerator.  With the door still attached and tightly sealed.  

Danger!  Danger, Will Robinson!

It's not like I expected the neighbor kids to break into his car, pry the mini fridge out from the other crap, squeeze their little bodies into it and await suffocation.  Rather, I was imagining the potential contents of said mini refrigerator bubbling and churning as they begin to rot and emit gasses within such a tiny, hermetically sealed space that was getting hotter and hotter in the summer sun.  God knows what all he's been keeping in there... including most likely the remnants of the last meal he made for himself at school, which happened to be fish.  I know this because he told me how proud he was of preparing this delectable taste treat... in fact he was so proud, he even took a picture of it.  

While I feel good that my child has learned how to fend for himself, there are a few things he has yet to learn.  Not wanting Jim and the rest of the folks at The Wire Wheel to think I was a total clod or anything, I walked into the office to drop off the keys and immediately beat them to the punch by telling them all about the refrigerator and other assorted crap before they could take a look at it and condemn me for being a terrible parent who raised a bozo who would leave a refrigerator in a car for six weeks in the summer.  We all had a good laugh over that.  As long as it didn't explode while they were working on the car, they didn't give a shit.  It was all good. 

So, the next day I went to take my car in, failing to realize that I had not yet unpacked all the crap from my camping trip last weekend.  Opening the back door to grab my brief case, I notice that not only is there firewood still in the back seat, there's a little bottle of propane strategically located beneath the wood.  Just ready for a little summer heat!  Boy, do I feel like a royal ass!  How do I explain that one? Actually I don't.  I just hope Jim and the guys don't notice!  

At last report, Vlad's car has yet to be unpacked, but at least my propane tank is now stored in a cool, dry place.   Look at the bright side... the mini propane tank could have been in the mini fridge.  Vlad and I are known for blowing things up, after all!

Guess we both just like living life on the edge!