Brother, we sure havin' a hell of a time fixin' axles of evil lately. Them confounded mechanics, Dickie and Donnie, said no sweat. Truth is those danged axles come in metric and we usin' "Made in America" tools that just don't fit, know what I mean.
Ol' G.W.'s tryin' to get some outside help with them axles, though. Nobody interested, really, except some fancy talkin' folk from London way out yonder and them Crocodile Dundee people.
And our clients, woo whee!, they just don't give the slightest for all the hard work we doin': bustin' knuckles, breakin' fingernails, cuttin' ourselves and such to get them things workin' the way the good Lord meant 'em to.
My wife Millie says we oughta rethink this whole thing, maybe just let 'em be. Y'know, she may be right; ain't no pocketful of money, I reckon, worth a piece of my hide.
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