I hate going to mechanics.
My beloved car–my only car–started making a groaning noise last week. At least, that’s when I noticed the noise. It only happens when I turn the wheel right while going over thirty MPH. Being a fairly responsible car owner–and not really wanting the wheels to fall off while I’m driving on I-90–I took the car into the dealership this morning (because that’s the only place my parents will let me take this car, which is technically theirs).
We start off with an eighty dollar “look into it” fee. They call here and say it’s going to be five-hundred dollars (something about the knuckle bracket and the rod).
Okay, fine, whatever. Just fix the damned thing, but before you start, why don’t you check the other wheel (because I don’t want them to fix the one side, and then say “well, the OTHER side needs to be fixed, too”) and tell me what you find. They want to do it after the other side is fixed, but I want them to just get everything down on paper before they start fixing anything.
Surprise, surprise–they say that one’s shot too. So now they want eleven-hundred dollars.
I could probably buy a car for that much money. This is why I hate going to get my car fixed.
See, my dad never bothered teaching me how cars work, how to check them, and how to do anything besides changing a tire, checking fluids, and changing oil. He knows stuff about cars, though; he just wouldn’t teach it to me because I was a girl, and he was more concerned with having me learn how to apply makeup ( :rolleyes: I suck at that, too). Yet everytime I have to take my car in, he refuses to come with me.
Fuck. I don’t know whether I’m being scammed or not. I don’t know if the car really needs what they say it needs. I don’t think that any unscrupulous dealer would hesitate to try to scam me because, honestly, I don’t look like I know much about cars. Unfortunately, in my case, the looks are not deceiving. And even if I’m not being scammed…1100 dollars is so fucking expensive. I can’t imagine any part of a car short of the engine costing that much. And the labor…they said it’d take maybe two or three hours, tops. I could have my car back tonight.
I just don’t get it. I want my dad to come with me. I want someone who knows something about cars to come with me. It’s so incredibly frustrating, too. I know a lot of things; I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent person. Yet I have no fucking clue whether the dealer is bullshitting me or not–and as long as I’m clueless, I’m going to be paranoid as hell. I’m without knowledge, and I hate, hate, hate being in that position.
WHY DIDN’T I LEARN ABOUT CARS?!
::sighs:: Time to start rolling up my pennies…