My husband is a car guy. Driver, fixer, lover...of all things mechanical. I...am not. We have worked out a very good division of labor regarding cars over the years we've been married. Basically, he does the labor, and I do any necessary division, lol!
Ok, actually, my job is to tell him if the car makes any odd noises or does something unusual. Luckily, I rarely have to do this anymore. Now that he's retired, I drive less. We go almost everywhere together, and even 75% crippled, he's still a better driver. So he usually hears the weird sounds and such.
Praise the Lord, too, because the conversations were usually...well...long.
"Honey, the car made a really weird sound today"
"What kind of sound?"
Sigh. "Ok...where did the noise come from?"
"Well...uh...not inside the car. I know that!"
Longer sigh. "Ok...from the engine?"
"OK, what were you doing when it made the sound?"
"Well, one of the girls was telling me about a book she's reading, and I was yelling at the boys to quit burping at each other, and trying to remember if we had sour cream for your tacos tonight...by the way, we are out of sour cream..."
Very long sigh...then with slightly gritted teeth..."I'll listen for the sound while I go get sour cream".
And amazingly enough, he could always figure it out. I'm so lucky to have him. If I had to tell that story to a mechanic, they'd be busy writing notes on their clipboard. "Got a live one here. Charge her double for the ozzoboznot".