It was like my car was taking a golden shower on my finger. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The day was crisp. Birds were announcing the arrival of the sun. Early morning joggers were taking to the streets. I awoke from some surreal dream and looked at the clock.

"It's Sunday," I thought to myself. "Sweet."

I got up and did my usual morning routine. Brushed my teeth. Washed my face. Shaved. Ate some breakfast. Then I went outside to attend to my baby.

I knew I had to turn her on before getting to work. So I slid inside of her and started to warm her up.

(I'm talking about my car, you perverts. Get your mind out of the gutter.)

Her engine purred. The Dinan exhaust turned her purr into a roar. She sounded good.

"I'm going to take care of you today, baby," I said. She purred in response.

(Yea, um, sometimes I talk to my car.)

I backed her up and took her for a short cruise. Around the block and down to the local ATM. "Might as well kill two birds with one stone and get some cash too," I figured. This helped the engine get nice and warm.

I returned and eased her into the carport. "First, the air filter," I declared. I popped the hood and removed the K&N air filter. Since it's a replaceable filter, it requires washing and re-oiling. Not only is it a performance aftermarket part, but it's environmentally friendly too.

(More than 100 million disposable paper air filters end up in landfills every year. Be good to Mother Earth and get yourself a K&N air filter.)

I tapped out some debris. Then I sprayed it with cleanser. After a wash, I re-oiled it. My baby deserves this tender loving care, and I was going to give her the best.

The engine was cool now and most of the oil settled. I jacked her up and stuck in the jack stands.

(Jack stands are a must if you're working under your car. A regular jack can break. And you really don't want your car on top of you, trust me.)

The ground was dirty and full of random who-knows-whats. That's part of working on my baby though—I have to get a little dirty. Not that I mind at all.

I slid under her and found the oil drain plug. The plug was on tight. As I tried to loosen it, I heard a soft whine. Suddenly, the drive socket cracked! Damn cheap gas station mechanics had machine-tightened the drain plug.

(That's one reason not to use cheap gas station mechanics to change your oil. Sometimes they'll machine-tighten your screws and plugs, tightening them way more than necessary. This over-tightening can result in added stress to those parts and the stripping of the screw grooves. Bad bad bad.)

I fetched a similar-sized drive socket and was finally able to loosen the drain plug. Then a thick stream of engine oil shot out. It was like my car was taking a golden shower on my finger. It was warm.

"Shit." I got up and wiped my hands. Used engine oil is some pretty toxic stuff. I should have worn gloves.

I watched my baby pee gloriously into the oil pan.

(That sounded dirty.)

After a few minutes, I pushed out the full oil pan and carefully wiped down the drain hole. TLC baby, all the way. Then I replaced the drain plug.

I removed the jack stands and lowered her back to the ground. She creaked and sighed as she touched the Earth again. I went under the hood and removed the oil filter. Frustratingly, I noticed that the washers and o-rings were old. The previous mechanics never replaced them.

(Another reason to be weary of cheap gas station mechanics. Damn them.)

I removed the o-rings and gently rubbed oil into the new o-rings. Then I did the same with the washers. This extra step is one that most mechanics rarely do, but adds a better seal for the oil filter.

(Just think, if I give my baby this much TLC, think of how much I'd give a real woman! Wink wink.)

Then I topped off her fluids. Radiator fluid, brake fluid, power-steering fluid, and windshield-washer fluid.

Finally, I checked the battery, belts, and hoses. All of them looked good. Way to go baby! She was in good shape, and now she was even better.

I slid back into her and turned her on. "How are you feeling, baby?" She purred in response. "Good girl, good girl." The exhaust again turned her purr into a roar, and she sounded good.

. . .

When was the last time you gave your car some tender loving care?