I start my annual maintenance routing with ritualistic sacrifice. Nothing too crazy mind you, just a baby goat, or a cat, if I'm feeling adventurous.
As I don't have easy access to a volcano, I make do with a pentagram on the floor, and an assload of hobby lobby candles. The looks you get when you ask "are these red candles made with real blood?" are priceless. The instrument used in these sacrifices is baseball bat spiked with the various subframe and suspension bolts I've accumulated in my years. A modern-day, gentelmans weapon if there ever was one.
After that it's straight to praying, for no less than 6 days straight. First for my eternal soul, and then for my damn GTI. This is no anglo saxon god I'm praying to, no sir. This is a 9 foot tall, 3 horned, centaur-demon with an upside down VW symbol branded into his chest hide. Part way through the prayer, I'm speaking in tongues I knew not possible. I spew German Castrol oil out of all my orifices and exhale a years worth of one-tire-fires smoke, all while questioning my sanity.
It's only then when I realize, in a moment of clarity, I should have bought Honda.
