It Runs in the Family

I think that, for just a few posts in the short life of my blog, I’ve made it pretty clear that I’m a ditz when it comes to cars (and probably a lot of other things). I’m happy to report that 100% of my parents’ offspring are afflicted in this manner.

While my dad and I were out car shopping last night (sales guy to Lola: which model did you want to see? Lola: uhhhh…)*, Dad told me that my brother noticed some acceleration issues with his Saab. Knowing that my brother is  a struggling artist and that funds are tight at the moment, I immediately felt for the guy. Dad explained to my brother that it might be one of two issues; one clocks in at about $100 to fix, the other… more than 10 times that. So, little brother takes his sluggish sedan in for a looksee, and the mechanic instantly discovers the issue.

Mechanic: Well, I’ve found the problem.

Bro: Uh oh. What is it? (sounds familiar, right??)

Mechanic: Come here and look.

And there, underneath the gas pedal was his floor mat wadded up and impeding full depression of the pedal.

That’s right, folks. For all our charm, talent, smarts and sweetness, the K siblings are raging idiots when it comes to cars.


*I’ll cover the car-shopping saga in a later post.

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