Whenever I get my oil changed or my car inspected, I steel myself for the standard phrase: "Ms. McQuire? Can you come out on the floor, we need to show you something." There is always a filter that needs replacing, tread that has worn too thin, or some other likely ridiculous service my car simply must have. Unless they tell me my car will blow up in some form or fashion, I usually politely decline to allow them to take a vacuum to my wallet. Today, for the first time in nine years of taking my car to get serviced, I did not hear this phrase or any variation of it. In fact, Brutus received a wonderful compliment from the fine folk at Midas, who told me everything looked fantastic and he was "a fine, really nice truck." I'm curious if they put the smiley face on my service reminder sticker because they knew how happy I was not to hear the dreaded phrase or because Brutus makes them smile. I'll put my money on both.
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