Just got my head gaskets — and let me tell you, nothing makes you feel more like a responsible adult than receiving a thin sheet of metal with holes in it packaged like it’s the Mona Lisa.
I opened the box expecting… I don’t know… maybe a dramatic glow? A choir of angels? At least a polite “good luck, buddy.”
Instead, I’m greeted by my own hand looking like it’s signing a peace treaty with the gasket.
The gasket itself is just chilling there like,
“Sup. I’m the reason your engine won’t explode. No pressure.”
Meanwhile, the box is 97% empty. The gasket takes up the space of a magazine subscription, but the packaging is the size of a small apartment. I half expected to find a studio kitchen and a couch under the cardboard flaps.
But hey — I finally got my head gaskets.
Now it’s time to install them, question every life choice that brought me to this moment, and pray the engine gods are in a good mood.
Wish me luck. The gasket already looks like it’s judging me.
