I went to get my oil changed the other day. My husband had been taking my car in for this lately, so I hadn’t bothered to do it myself in quite a while. I looked for the little tag in the driver’s side corner of the windshield so I could make sure I was going to the correct place. It looked like my husband had switched up oil change facilities since the last time I had to do this. I searched through our kitchen coupon box (actually the front of the refrigerator, underneath a magnet that says “I love dogs”) for a discount flyer, and hit the road.