Mechanic says, that's not my problem, to my vehicle issues, so I make it his problem.

Some intro and backstory. My dad was a mechanic for 20 or more years, and for as long as I can

remember, I drove him nuts because I'd go around the house with a screwdriver that he'd left

out and take everything apart, because I wanted to see how it worked.

As I grew older, I developed an affinity towards computers and electronics, which led me to

be that kid in high school, who changed his grades, crashed the school district servers,

and used the Net Send command with great success.

I'd spend my weekends, either with my grandparents and

uncle working on science projects, or dragging my dad outside to help me fix my car, which

consisted of him telling me that he'd help once I got it taken apart. Those figure it out lessons

were probably the greatest gift he could have given me growing up. I joined the

US Army in March of 2004 and went into communications, or commo, for short, where I managed to go from

private, E-1, when I joined, to Sergeant E-5 by the time I returned from my deployment at the beginning of

2007. After returning home,

I was subsequently transferred from a light infantry unit, walking everywhere, to a mechanized

infantry unit, riding in an armoured vehicle everywhere, and placed in charge of the battalion

commo shop, because the current person running the commo shop was scheduled to retire in a few months,

and I was the only other NCO.

This is where things got interesting, and my great Commoverse Mechanics rivalry story starts.

So, Como versus Mechanics.

As anyone else that was in the US Army can attest to,

every Monday is, or was, motorpool maintenance,

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