I really need to learn how to do mechanical repair.
I think it's time to get some books and learn to do so.

Cars are unbelievably expensive to get fixed at the regular mechanic in a shop.
I'm going to end up having to spend around $500 to have a damn tune up and some fluids changed. Maybe some other work has been done as well, but I'll be goddamned if the mechanic at the place gave me any other information other than, "Well, the car won't be ready until tomorrow because we need to order you 'the fancy sparkplugs.'"

I guess that's what a Saab takes. "Fancy" sparkplugs. Hmmm.
I wonder if I can go to Pep Boys and buy me some "fancy" sparkplugs.
These better have a portion of Dale Earnhardt's soul in each of them and bestow fanastical powers on my vehicle for how "fancy" priced their going to end up being…
and his soul better hum in the key of C-sharp.

See, I've been lucky to have a wife whose father is a mechanic.
He's saved me several thousands of dollars worth of labor on car repairs that he has done rather than having to go to the aforementioned regular mechanic. I’m surprised he didn’t look me over the first time he did repair on my ailing VW Fox, shake his head, and forbid me from seeing his daughter ever again.

…But he didn’t.

So, why not go to him all of the time?

Well, first there's the distance. To have any repairs done, I have to drive back to Clarkston to get work done. That's two hours away from Kalamazoo. Although, if I take it to Curt, I know that the work will be done the same day. He does his diagnosis, gets the parts, and does the work in the amount of time it takes a regular mechanic to figure out how many hours of labor he can rape you for without you screaming about it. So the time it takes to get to Clarkston isn't a big deal.

The other fact is that in having to take a vehicle back to Curt, there's the chance that it won't make it. Cars know when you're worried about them. They like to make you sweat. They like to clunk, shimmy, and wheeze all the more when they know you're looking at 30 miles to go on a 150 mile trip. We whip them like dogs. Mistreated and unloved until they begin to fail us… we rush them to repair. “Please, please, please don’t die! I promise to take better care of you, “ we cry, petting their steering wheel.
They see the lies but, Oh! How they love to see us sweat.

The final obstacle is the hardest to overcome. The guilt.
First, let me explain that I feel no ill will towards my mother-in-law. Deb is awesome. She’s a straight shooter whose kid gloves are always off. She doesn’t like something, * BAM * You’ll know it.
So, its been said that we make Curt do a lot of work and we don’t appreciate it. Also, that the only reason that we come over is to get work done on the car. I think that there is issue to be raised at those thoughts. While not a scientific study, I’d say it’s probably 1 in 3 visits that include the need for work to be done on a car. I think that’s a pretty good number.
If I were a daring man, I could also remind her that we live two hours away, busy people that work weekends, and that in the grand scheme of things – we visit them more in Detroit than they visit us in Kalamazoo.
AND, it's not as if we don't pay him. Sure, he just charges us for parts, but I've tried to give him money at times and he won't take it. So sometimes I overpay him. Then the next time he won't take any money. It's futile to argue with him. He just doesn't care because at the top of the heap of reasons to take advantage of my father-in-laws mechanical skills...
I know Curt loves to work on cars and I know Curt loves to help his daughter - and to a lesser extent, his inept son-in-law.
I will figure out what I need to do to have Deb not be pissed at me while Curt ‘slaves away’ in the garage if I can avoid “the mechanic.”
I will vacuum her living room carpet with concentric circle patterns, paint the kitchen… whatever it takes.