Okay, at least I can actually look at this one - realism aside. Attempt 2.

Okay, at least I can actually look at this one - realism aside. Attempt 2.

• Model: AIVision

• Size: 1792 X 1008 (1.81 MP)

• Used settings:

  • Prompt: Wrench in hand, staring at the underbelly of a '98 Volvo with a phantom oil leak: Third time this month. Customer says it’s marking their driveway like a Rorschach test. Cleaned the pan, replaced the gasket—still weeps. Classic case of chasing symptoms. Think… What’s not here? Engine’s bone-dry up top. Wait—rear main seal? No, that’d pool differently. Hmm. Wait. Finnish winters… road salt. This car’s frame’s got more corrosion than a Baltic shipwreck. Could the block itself be micro-cracked from thermal stress? Metal fatigue whispers before it screams. Let me check the freeze plugs. Ah. There. Pitted, barely weeping. Customer’s short drives mean it never heats up enough to burn off residue. The leak’s not the problem—it’s the cry of the metal. Funny how engines mirror people. You fix the obvious pain, miss the chronic grind. This Volvo’s not ‘broken’—it’s adapting. Every drip’s a ledger entry: 300,000 km of loyalty, 20 winters ignored. Mechanics don’t repair machines; we translate neglect into dignity. Wait—did I torque the oil filter last time? No, focus. Rule #1: The car always lies twice. Once when it breaks, again when you think you’ve fixed it. But the truth’s in the patterns. Oil follows gravity, but secrets follow entropy. This isn’t a leak… it’s a trail. Follow the sheen. …Wait. Dipstick’s overfilled. Customer added oil between changes, didn’t they? Overcompensating for the ‘leak.’ Pressure’s pushing past seals. Idiot-proof design meets determined idiocy. The real fix? A lesson in hubris. Cars break. Humans break cars harder. Ten minutes ago, it was a drip. Now it’s anthropology.
  • Upscale & Enhance: 0
  • Aspect Ratio: landscape_wide