ViperInBlack
Enthusiast
- Joined
- Oct 5, 2004
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I went to see a new doctor. He came into the exam room appropriately attired in coat, white shirt, tasteful tie…wearing pants (!). He was not barefoot or toothless. He had no visible tatts or piercings, and the tips of his receding hair were not painted bright blue. He seemed normal enough.
He had my chart, and he was carrying a text book to which he referred while asking me seemingly simple and rather unrelated (to my problem) questions. He then left the exam room, leaving my chart covering the book.
I sort of nudged the chart until it sort of fell off the book. I then sort of nudged the book so that I could see the cover. The book was entitled “You Came From Mommy and Daddy – And This is Your Body.” It had cartoon figures of a family on the front, including an incredibly cute puppy.
A corner of a page was turned down, apparently to mark where he had been reading while taking my “history.” I opened the book to that page. It was entitled “This is Your Tummy” and went onto explain that “your tummy is where your food goes.”
I began to re-dress myself for a hasty exit. He re-entered, gawked, and then asked why was I leaving since “I had not even checked to see if your nose is wet.”
I did not bother to respond, but as I exited the exam room, he called out to me “it may have just been a hair ball, try putting some oil in your feed and don’t leave the bowl on the floor too long.”
This was very similar to my initial search for a mechanic in my area.
My first Viper was sold to me by a Dodge dealer who had never previous sold, ordered and certainly had hired no one who worked upon the SRT-10. It was delivered without gasoline (almost bone dry).
It was received on Sunday, by Monday, I had joined the VCA Forum and began to ask for assistance in finding a mechanic.
The first input I received is “whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, even fear for life, use _______ . They are unquestionably the worst Dodge Viper dealership in the State or perhaps the immediate solar system.”
That was no problem. I had gone out there to buy a Final Edition and had found them totally disreputable, uninformed, and too…too… Well, you know.
Then an interesting thing happened. I was given another name. This fellow, however, apparently no longer worked for Dodge. He now worked for Desoto or Packard or American Motors…cannot remember which, but “he was the best.”
I was given a third name. “Now, he’s far away but will send a transporter, and he is the greatest.” So I called and talked to him. He was friendly enough…I suppose. But a weird thing happened on the way to firming up an owner-mechanic relationship with him. I was in the process of asking him to install Corsa and 3.55, and he interjected “uh, we do not do that…we would get in trouble with the EPA…lose our license.” God’s truth. He did offer to do our routine maintenance.
I decided to move on, thanked the fellow who recommended him, told him my reason for seeking someone else, and he said “oh, you must have misunderstood. He did those mods to my buddy’s car last week.”
(sigh) So I called back. He re-stated what he had already said. I told him that ____ told me he had done those mods just last week. He denied that he had ever done such mods. Never, ever.
I started thinking “This is your tummy; it holds your food;” (well, it does not hold it forever, and I felt I was getting a dose of the next in chain of events in food processing).
I then found a guy, who knew a guy, whose brother-in-law’s sister’s husband’s cousin had known a man whose friend had a Viper. They used a guy named _________ .
I called this mechanic. He was an incredibly nice, patient, informed and enthused guy. He talked about two brothers for whom he was installing 3.73 and wanted me to wait until he saw how that performed. (Later he stated that he felt that 3.55 in this particular environment was a better choice).
He recommended the Corsa Track. He recommended the K&N, even gave suggestions about the easiest way to deal with that one arcane hose clamp and removal of the O2 sensor. He was also very enthused about a Paxton he was installing for a guy.
When I called back to reschedule the install of the rear end, because I bought the Mamba, he was literally more excited than I about my car trade. He took a true interest in my interests, and he shared those interests.
He’s the man, and if he decides to moonlight by doing annual physical exams…hey, he’s got to be better than that first doctor dude.
He had my chart, and he was carrying a text book to which he referred while asking me seemingly simple and rather unrelated (to my problem) questions. He then left the exam room, leaving my chart covering the book.
I sort of nudged the chart until it sort of fell off the book. I then sort of nudged the book so that I could see the cover. The book was entitled “You Came From Mommy and Daddy – And This is Your Body.” It had cartoon figures of a family on the front, including an incredibly cute puppy.
A corner of a page was turned down, apparently to mark where he had been reading while taking my “history.” I opened the book to that page. It was entitled “This is Your Tummy” and went onto explain that “your tummy is where your food goes.”
I began to re-dress myself for a hasty exit. He re-entered, gawked, and then asked why was I leaving since “I had not even checked to see if your nose is wet.”
I did not bother to respond, but as I exited the exam room, he called out to me “it may have just been a hair ball, try putting some oil in your feed and don’t leave the bowl on the floor too long.”
This was very similar to my initial search for a mechanic in my area.
My first Viper was sold to me by a Dodge dealer who had never previous sold, ordered and certainly had hired no one who worked upon the SRT-10. It was delivered without gasoline (almost bone dry).
It was received on Sunday, by Monday, I had joined the VCA Forum and began to ask for assistance in finding a mechanic.
The first input I received is “whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, even fear for life, use _______ . They are unquestionably the worst Dodge Viper dealership in the State or perhaps the immediate solar system.”
That was no problem. I had gone out there to buy a Final Edition and had found them totally disreputable, uninformed, and too…too… Well, you know.
Then an interesting thing happened. I was given another name. This fellow, however, apparently no longer worked for Dodge. He now worked for Desoto or Packard or American Motors…cannot remember which, but “he was the best.”
I was given a third name. “Now, he’s far away but will send a transporter, and he is the greatest.” So I called and talked to him. He was friendly enough…I suppose. But a weird thing happened on the way to firming up an owner-mechanic relationship with him. I was in the process of asking him to install Corsa and 3.55, and he interjected “uh, we do not do that…we would get in trouble with the EPA…lose our license.” God’s truth. He did offer to do our routine maintenance.
I decided to move on, thanked the fellow who recommended him, told him my reason for seeking someone else, and he said “oh, you must have misunderstood. He did those mods to my buddy’s car last week.”
(sigh) So I called back. He re-stated what he had already said. I told him that ____ told me he had done those mods just last week. He denied that he had ever done such mods. Never, ever.
I started thinking “This is your tummy; it holds your food;” (well, it does not hold it forever, and I felt I was getting a dose of the next in chain of events in food processing).
I then found a guy, who knew a guy, whose brother-in-law’s sister’s husband’s cousin had known a man whose friend had a Viper. They used a guy named _________ .
I called this mechanic. He was an incredibly nice, patient, informed and enthused guy. He talked about two brothers for whom he was installing 3.73 and wanted me to wait until he saw how that performed. (Later he stated that he felt that 3.55 in this particular environment was a better choice).
He recommended the Corsa Track. He recommended the K&N, even gave suggestions about the easiest way to deal with that one arcane hose clamp and removal of the O2 sensor. He was also very enthused about a Paxton he was installing for a guy.
When I called back to reschedule the install of the rear end, because I bought the Mamba, he was literally more excited than I about my car trade. He took a true interest in my interests, and he shared those interests.
He’s the man, and if he decides to moonlight by doing annual physical exams…hey, he’s got to be better than that first doctor dude.
the plot thickens...
