The economy is sliding! I know it because not only am I bombarded with it on television every night but I hear rumbles of it around my office. "Consumer confidence is waning," they are saying. With darting eyes, we look at one another wondering if a coming recession is indeed on our horizon. All we talk about is how we all can economize. We all agreed that one way to weather the economic storm is to avoid big ticket expenses.

Before our last "Chad Election", I had planned on buying a new car. But in the face of how our election turned out, I decided, as my collegues urged me, to hang onto "Old Betsy", a 1990, stick shift, Ford Escort, which has slightly over 100,000 miles of careful wear on her. She will still be part of my family until our next presidential election, I have decided. To celebrate my adamant decision, which my family had rejected vehemently, I trotted Betsy down to my neighborhood, independent, repair facility. I told "Big Joe", the owner-mechanic, "All I want is an oil change and lube." "You know that I keep her servicing on schedule and that I maintain her very well; she is almost as good as new," I assured him.

That very afternoon Big Joe called me to tell me that Betsy needed more than just servicing!

"You see," he said, "as I unscrewed the oil filter, the bracket cracked and as I untorqued the oil pan screws, they stripped. These old cars, you know, suffer metal fatique. And I noticed that your tranny filter needs replacing and the exhaust is spewing blue smoke."

"What!" I exclaimed increduously. "What does blue smoke mean? How much is this all going to cost me?"

There was a distinct sound of smacking lips eminating from my telephone receiver. His answer gave me the feeling that I was talking to Little Red Riding Hood's wolf.

"Well --," he hesitated, "-- to replace the oil filter holder and pan screws, service the tranny and give her a valve job that will get rid of the blue smoke -- that'll run ya about six bills, give or take fifty bucks."

My head reeled, I remember. I did know that, for the last five years, Old Betsy had outlived her actual worth -- but I had taken such good care of her, I argued with myself. I told Big Joe that I would be right down to see him. He was waiting with open arms when I got there. I circled the car with him and pointed out all her faults; peeling paint and body dings, faulty door locks and handles, bungy cords holding together various loose parts.

"Look at her good, Joe," I said. "Do you really think that I intend to sink all of that money into her? I have to hope that she cripples along, for as long as she can, until she collapses into a heap. All I want is an oil change and lube! How much to put her back together again?"

Scratching his head, he answered, "Oh, 'bout one bill."

"Does that include the oil?" I asked?

EDITOR'S NOTE:
If you have a snipe or a gripe, write Charlie about it. Sniping and griping for you and your interests is his job. Please direct your snipes and gripes to the Editor.