It's hot

We have a sign in the shop:

We don't work on:

French cars
British cars
Italian cars
Russian cars


I'm too old for the hassle and Harry's of the same mind. So today, the hottest fucking day of the year so far, Nunzio brings a car up to be inspected. An ancient Peugeot 405.

Me: Is that the same Frog piece of shit that caught fire on the dyno last year?

Nunzio: Yeah, I fixed it.

Me: What did I tell you last year, after I got the fire out, you crazy I-talian?

He thinks for a minute.

Nunzio, quoting me: Don't ever bring that Frog piece of shit back here ever again or I'll push it out in the street and burn it the rest of the way.

Me: And?

Nunzio: But the guy is a good customer. Look, he pays me to keep this thing running. I'll leave it with you.

Me: It's the hottest fucking day of the year.

Nunzio: Pleeeeeeze.

Me: Fine. I hate to see a grown man beg.

Nunzio heads back to his shop (a couple blocks up the road). About a half-hour later, Harry and I strap the car down to the dyno and run it up. Four minutes on a variable speed course, ending up at about 60 mph before the test ends. It fails the first run and we have to do it again. We're almost finished with the second run, Harry bringing up the speed, and at about 50, I see smoke begin coming out from the hood seams. I move to the wall to grab the fire extinguisher, muttering 'I'm gonna kill that Ginzo bastid'.

Harry sees me move and then he sees the smoke. 'Is it on fire,' he yells, continuing to put on speed, following the test.

I look under the car and I see green fluid pouring out from underneath. 'Nah, overheating,' I yell back as the left side tank of the radiator blew off, spewing 250 degree water all over the place. Harry finishes the test as I start tossing Speedy-dry on the steaming antifreeze. Would you believe the fucking thing passed?

I dial the phone. 'Nunz, bring the wrecker, the fucking thing passed but it needs a radiator.'

Nunzio: Cha-ching.



So how did your day go?