Leaks

I have learned that when peeing over the railing as I do to save water, I have to shake rather more vigorously that I used to, or I will end up with the tell-tale leaky spot in front of my shorts.

  So it is not such a wonder that my car has developed a leak; we are both getting old. Now I don't know if cars age at the ratio of say dogs, seven doggie years to one human year but they surely age faster than do we mere humans.
So my car had a leak and I was worried.
Enter the Mannies, Manny Sr. and Manny Jr.  They have opened a car repair at the bottom of my hill. It is not much of a place, a wooden shack with one door and no windows and a slab of concrete and all the odors of the neighbor shacks which are not hooked up to any sewer or running water. Rather ripe.

Manny Jr.is deported from Chicago where he lived for 31 years and Manny Sr. is from Ciudad Juarez and dyes his hair a most unusual color of reddish brown.
He claimed that he could fix what was ailing the car and started to dismantle it with great vigor. I left.
And the following day it was all ready for me..sans leaks.  I took it to the market keeping a woried eye on the signals on the dashboard but all seemed OK. I came back and unloaded and parked the car and checked and...

I HAVE ANOTHER LEAK....

Not the same to be sure, but a leak. And now I have to make up my mind as to whether to go Manny Sr. again or bite the bullet and try to coax the car to my normal and known mechanic who is located way the heck and gone on the other side of town.
OY such decisions.