Yesterday I took my Jeep in for inspection. I was terrified that it would fail since I can't really afford any repairs right now.
When the inspector called me over, he didn't look happy. He looked like Biggie Smalls and he had the word "IRON" tattooed on his forearm.
He said, "Why does your car smell like pizza?"
I excitedly explained that I had just baked some orange and almond shortbread and pulled it from my back seat to offer him a piece. He took one and said, "This is pretty good. Here's your sticker. See you in two years. Bring more cookies."