The Sorrows of Jim Frostbane

"So, uh, what's the damage?" said Jim Frostbane, meeting with the mechanic in the garage's parking lot.  His car's air conditioner hadn't been working for a week and he feared the worst.

"Seems your car leveled up, sir," said his mechanic, a grease-stained middle-aged guy who was at the moment somewhat singed.  "Now it's one with the elemental flame.  Fifty extra hit points, Fireball at will, Meteor Rain three per day, Wake of Fire three pee dee, Nova one pee dee, plus two dee six fire for the machine guns.  Immune fire.  Elemental hit dice and saves."

"...but what about the air conditioner?"

The mechanic scratched his head.  "You've got a three-point-five car.  Air conditioners get overridden as part of the template."

"Can you fix it?"

"Level drain doesn't work on constructs, so no."

"Oh, dammit!  Can't you get it house-ruled?"

"Not my call, sir."

Jim kicked at the parking lot's gravel.

"That'll be thirty gold pieces for the once-over."