My legs are suing me for a divorce
I dropped the car off at the shop because I don’t have enough mechanical equipment that needs maintenance. Since the oil change, tire rotation, transmission fluid flush, and patented “Let’s look everything over so we can make up something that’s ‘you-will-die-a-painful-death-if-you-don’t-fix-this-now!’ takes time to perform (conjure?) I unloaded the bike and rode it home.
My legs immediately sent an email to my brain. “What the hell is he doing? We just DID THIS for four days straight! Look, Mr. Brain, you control his breathing and his heart. Shut ’em down, now.”