I had one doctor tell me that my brain was like the engine of a high-power sports car; capable of doing a lot of incredible things quickly, but not really that good for sitting in traffic.

Eventually the metaphor grew to encompass the need for specialized service to keep all the cylinders firing in the correct sequence.

Towards the end it was all about how if I took it for service anywhere else I’d prove my mother right by voiding my warranty and end up dying in a fiery crash that sent me straight to hell!

… oh well.