Catch
2007-10-22, 05:31 PM
I'm kind of livid right now. Seriously. Maybe this should go in the Depression Thread but I'd rather get this typed out first. Your forgiveness, please, if my rant is misplaced.
TL;DR Summary: My car's broke and I'm pissed.
Sit down kids, it's Story Time!
I've had this car for two years, give or take. It's a '99 model and had been running relatively well up until the last couple of months. While driving recently, my car began to act unusually if intermittently. The RPMs would jump way up then drop down, sometimes multiple times in succession, causing the car to lurch forward and producing several uncomfortable thuds. Since the problem persisted, I hypothesized that my vehicle had a transmission problem and after conferring with my parents, I took my car to a local mechanic. Said mechanic was happy to work on my car and take trade dollars, so in it went. Something like a week later, I'm told they replaced the torn motor mounts--supposedly the cause of the problem--and my brakes, to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars. It's a chunk out of the wallet, but we were glad to have it fixed.
I get my car back, I'm happy to have it working again. Or so I expected. I drove it for less than a week before the car started acting up again. Grudgingly I take it back to the mechanic to have it fixed. After I explain the problem, the mechanic tells me that no, it's not the same issue at all; what they fixed had nothing to do with the current problem. He suggests I take one of the mechanics out for a test drive and the car refuses to act up until the last mile. He tells me that it's clearly a transmission problem and no, they don't do that. I'm given a phone number for a somewhat-local mechanic that services transmissions and waved off the lot. Fine. A new trans would set me back twenty-four hundred dollars more but I hope for the best and head to the suggested shop. They gladly take my vehicle and a week later I'm handed a three-hundred dollar bill for the replacement of a mass airflow sensor, whatever that is. Apparently it was malfunctioning and throwing the car out of gear. Again, I'm glad to have my car back without another four-digit bill.
Or so I expected. Heading to school from an early morning of picking my car up, there's a bit of a hiccup on the way home. I shrug it off, figuring it was just my imagination. Wrong! The damn thing goes right back to the same old problem. Le sigh. A day or so later, I take it back to the mechanic and explain that it's still doing the same thing. They take the car, I shrug and figure that this time they'll get it right. No! I get a call a few days later and I'm told that the car's not doing anything. Nothing's wrong so they can't fix it. Great. I take it back, assuming the problem worked itself out. No, of course not. The car goes back. After week of it "not doing anything," the mechanic finally tells me that they fixed a short in the engine and that it should be just fine now. He says they even drove it around an extra day just to make sure. Hooray, car's fixed! Except not. I get barely a mile from the lot and, of course, the stupid car is still doing the same damn thing. The mechanic won't take it because they can't find anything wrong with it, so I'm stuck driving it for a while.
Since the first mechanic I visited is closer, I decide to go to them and see if they can spot the problem. I take it in one day when it's malfunctioning and as soon as a mechanic steps in the car, it purrs like a kitten and I feel like a jackass. He even takes it out by himself just to make sure. No, it's shifting just fine. I wait a week or so and take it back. After being brushed off for lack of time, I finally get another chance to prove that there's something really wrong with my car. Oddly, the mechanic who drives it this time is the very same one who originally told me it was a transmission problem. We get barely a block away from the shop and the car makes its series of awkward thuds; the mechanic tells me that it's still the transmission he doesn't know why the other shop didn't look at it. The shop which specializes in transmission work didn't bother to check the part they service most. The mechanic gives me a business card with his name and says to have the other shop call him.
This brings me to today. I borrow my dad's van to go to class, he drives my crapmobile to his shop where he'll take it to the trans mechanic since I'm busy. Or so I expected. My date falls through so I have plenty of free time to spend with my crappy car. I trek out to my dad's shop and drive my car over to the trans place. I park it, take my house key off the ring and stride in, ready to have this thing finally settled. After explaining my tale and handing over the business card from the other shop, I'm asked by the owner if my car is acting up right now. Well, no. He tells me to come back when it is because they consistently haven't found anything wrong with it. But the other guy said it's the transmission. I have a business card. Right here in my hand. Take it. Call him. Fix my damn car. No. I'm told that his mechanic has to see the problem before he can fix it. I'm to come back later when the car is actually acting up and then he'll take a look at it. I nod politely and walk out with my keys in my white-knuckled fist.
The damn thing bucked like a bronco all the way home.
TL;DR Summary: My car's broke and I'm pissed.
Sit down kids, it's Story Time!
I've had this car for two years, give or take. It's a '99 model and had been running relatively well up until the last couple of months. While driving recently, my car began to act unusually if intermittently. The RPMs would jump way up then drop down, sometimes multiple times in succession, causing the car to lurch forward and producing several uncomfortable thuds. Since the problem persisted, I hypothesized that my vehicle had a transmission problem and after conferring with my parents, I took my car to a local mechanic. Said mechanic was happy to work on my car and take trade dollars, so in it went. Something like a week later, I'm told they replaced the torn motor mounts--supposedly the cause of the problem--and my brakes, to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars. It's a chunk out of the wallet, but we were glad to have it fixed.
I get my car back, I'm happy to have it working again. Or so I expected. I drove it for less than a week before the car started acting up again. Grudgingly I take it back to the mechanic to have it fixed. After I explain the problem, the mechanic tells me that no, it's not the same issue at all; what they fixed had nothing to do with the current problem. He suggests I take one of the mechanics out for a test drive and the car refuses to act up until the last mile. He tells me that it's clearly a transmission problem and no, they don't do that. I'm given a phone number for a somewhat-local mechanic that services transmissions and waved off the lot. Fine. A new trans would set me back twenty-four hundred dollars more but I hope for the best and head to the suggested shop. They gladly take my vehicle and a week later I'm handed a three-hundred dollar bill for the replacement of a mass airflow sensor, whatever that is. Apparently it was malfunctioning and throwing the car out of gear. Again, I'm glad to have my car back without another four-digit bill.
Or so I expected. Heading to school from an early morning of picking my car up, there's a bit of a hiccup on the way home. I shrug it off, figuring it was just my imagination. Wrong! The damn thing goes right back to the same old problem. Le sigh. A day or so later, I take it back to the mechanic and explain that it's still doing the same thing. They take the car, I shrug and figure that this time they'll get it right. No! I get a call a few days later and I'm told that the car's not doing anything. Nothing's wrong so they can't fix it. Great. I take it back, assuming the problem worked itself out. No, of course not. The car goes back. After week of it "not doing anything," the mechanic finally tells me that they fixed a short in the engine and that it should be just fine now. He says they even drove it around an extra day just to make sure. Hooray, car's fixed! Except not. I get barely a mile from the lot and, of course, the stupid car is still doing the same damn thing. The mechanic won't take it because they can't find anything wrong with it, so I'm stuck driving it for a while.
Since the first mechanic I visited is closer, I decide to go to them and see if they can spot the problem. I take it in one day when it's malfunctioning and as soon as a mechanic steps in the car, it purrs like a kitten and I feel like a jackass. He even takes it out by himself just to make sure. No, it's shifting just fine. I wait a week or so and take it back. After being brushed off for lack of time, I finally get another chance to prove that there's something really wrong with my car. Oddly, the mechanic who drives it this time is the very same one who originally told me it was a transmission problem. We get barely a block away from the shop and the car makes its series of awkward thuds; the mechanic tells me that it's still the transmission he doesn't know why the other shop didn't look at it. The shop which specializes in transmission work didn't bother to check the part they service most. The mechanic gives me a business card with his name and says to have the other shop call him.
This brings me to today. I borrow my dad's van to go to class, he drives my crapmobile to his shop where he'll take it to the trans mechanic since I'm busy. Or so I expected. My date falls through so I have plenty of free time to spend with my crappy car. I trek out to my dad's shop and drive my car over to the trans place. I park it, take my house key off the ring and stride in, ready to have this thing finally settled. After explaining my tale and handing over the business card from the other shop, I'm asked by the owner if my car is acting up right now. Well, no. He tells me to come back when it is because they consistently haven't found anything wrong with it. But the other guy said it's the transmission. I have a business card. Right here in my hand. Take it. Call him. Fix my damn car. No. I'm told that his mechanic has to see the problem before he can fix it. I'm to come back later when the car is actually acting up and then he'll take a look at it. I nod politely and walk out with my keys in my white-knuckled fist.
The damn thing bucked like a bronco all the way home.