Occam's Razor

Tonight's auto class was held at a transmission repair shop on the south side of town, about five or six miles away. There were several cars up on lifts, wheels removed, when we went into the garage. In the back, there was a technician rebuilding a transmission. "The transmission is from the white Honda you saw out in the garage," the owner, Chuck, told us. I thought it was pretty cool and complicated looking and I have a whole new appreciation for the complexity of that thing that controls whether you can go or not and just how fast that 'go' is. I had no idea transmissions were made up of lots of metal rings with teeth and that there were these large blocks of metal mazes that held the whole thing together.

Back in the garage, another girl and I went to inspect the white Honda. We were both interested in locating the drive belt, and with the car propped up so nicely and the wheels removed, it was a great opportunity for us. Chuck even gave us a flashlight so we could see better. We were so pleased with ourselves when we located the engine and the drive belts. Then one of the guys came by to see what we were doing.

"What's the matter with the car?" he asked.

"Well," I said, "it's complicated, but mainly, the transmission's missing."