to the victor go the spoils

today the Fiat and I locked heads in the first of what will surely be on ongoing series of epic battles. Today's war was waged when i decided it was time she released hold on those dreaded security lock lugs. Have you ever tried to remove the lugs of a wheel with nothing more than a series of large wrenches and own guts? I'm here to tell you child, it ain't a pretty sight. The first two, whom i have affectionately named Skip and Skipper, were worked off with some industrial grade penetrating oil and the biting teeth of my adjustable wrench ("dogs" as they honestly and appropriately call this tool in the electrical trade.)

Skip's older sister Veronica is a bitch. Fortunately, I was able to take my Dremel tool to her face and make me a fine surface for my wrench, ol' bitey, to grab onto. She was third to die. That left Sedgwick. Sedqwick, i determined, is the older, molesting uncle of the first three lugs and wasn't leaving his home with out fight. I'll spare you all the details of the final extraction, the same way a doctor leaves out the part were he was standing on the table, cracking your gran-pappy's rib-cage. But i will say, before the job was done, my knuckles were mangled, my borrowed pipe wrench was warm and RoboCop 2 had been quoted at least once.



"You're coming with me, Cain."