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Now, I love me some “A.I. Artificial Intelligence”—ya know, that flick where lil’ David, the robot kid, just wants to be real? “I am... I am...” he’d say, all soft and desperate. Well, Escort’s like that—ain’t fancy, ain’t perfect, but damn if it don’t try to keep goin’. I’ve seen these cars smashed up, rusted out, still rollin’ on pure grit. One case, this dude claims a hit-and-run, says his Escort got totaled. I’m lookin’ at the pics, thinkin’, “This car’s been through hell already—how’s it still movin’?” Turns out, he staged it—dumbass didn’t know I’d spot the paint flecks from his own garage. Made me mad, man, waste o’ my time!

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So, I’m workin’ on him, and outta nowhere, the power goes out. Like, seriously? In the middle of a root canal? I’m just sittin’ there, drill in hand, and I’m like, “Great, now I’m a dentist in the dark.” I could hear the chaos outside on Kabanbay Batyr Street. People honkin’, yelling, it was a whole scene.