Dear Trainer,

The following letter is entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons or events is strictly intentional.

You don’t know me, on account of we’ve never met, on account of the fact that I’ve never been to one of your classes, which is why I wanted to write you this note.

Seems to me that training has been on everybody’s mind lately, especially some of the guys I know in and around town. Most of them work for small shops that can’t spare ’em often, but they try to do what they can.

Not me though. I’m pretty sure I know just about everything there is about that there anti-brake locking system, pee-see-’em (unless they close the door, then it’s a pee-no-see-’em, ha, ha, ha), and of course, that watchamacallit thingamajigger, the On Board Agnostic System.

No, I haven’t made it out to one of your training sessions yet, but you can count on me being at the next one. See, I spoke to some of the guys and they tell me that the whole first hour–which would be just about the first period of the Leaf game for me–you told some great story about a friend of yours and how his dog peed on a tire and set off a sensor or something. I’m not really sure of the exact story because my friend went for a smoke outside till you were finished. Actually, he told me you wasted a bunch of his time, but then he doesn’t appreciate stories the way I do.

Naw, so many of them are like that you know. They just want to get right into the systems and technical stuff. Some of them even want you to help them figure out how to make money at it.

Not me. I already got that part figured out too. See, even when I don’t know what’s up with some high-tech piece that’s been perpetrated on us by one of the Big Three–or God forbid, them foreign cars–I know I can always do the easy stuff, then send the customer to the dealer or The Tire and let them get the tough ones. Serves them right. Who the hell ever heard of payin’ for diagnostic time anyway!

No, Mr. Trainer, I don’t really want to waste my time listenin’ to stuff that’s less interesting than half-time at an Argos game. But those stories! Man, I love a good story, and I’ve got a few of my own.

Next time you’re in town, maybe you could let me know so as I could come out. After all, judging by what the guys here are telling me, I’ve got a good hour of story tellin’ time before you start handing out the wiring diagrams and the diagnostic trees.

I hope you don’t mind if that’s right about the time that I slip out, ’cause I hate gardening. Of course that’s when the other guys are going to be tuning in, unless of course they elect to join me.

If we hurry, we should be in time for the second period.

Signed,

Lou Tech

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