When I Attempt To Look Under The Hood Of My Car.

Somehow, I always believe that every time I pop the hood up, it will be different, and I’ll know what the fuck I’m looking at – as if magical mechanics dust will blow up at my face as I lift the hood and all will be illuminated.

But then I just stand there.


And part of me thinks, What the hell are doing standing in front of a running car, you fucking idiot?