blackbird.jpg (30437 bytes)

2005-10-14 @ 11:47 p.m.
rip(cough)off


I really want to trust people....honest. But when I open my front door and everyone who lies beyond there, has to be looked at sideways, its a little difficult to make a commitment to letting down my guard. I mean, if I could Iíd probably be in a relationship right now. But I guess Iím just naturally suspicious of people and their agendas, both personal and professional.

Take for instance the car place I just had my car at for nearly a week. I had it towed all the way across town to some place I didnít know, but that had been recommended to me as a place where women who are retarded about their cars can go. They supposedly had been helping out this single mom I work with, nurse HER piece-of-crap car along, so that it can last until she gets her tax refund next Spring. But recently something happened and she panicked (kinda like I do) and she thought the car repair was going to be like $400 but instead the shop called and said it was only going to be $48. She was ecstatic. Yay! This shop is great! They only charged me $48 for a loose screw in the whatchamajigger....you know, something that probably took only .01 second for some mechanic to do while he sipped a double latte. But $48 seemed reasonable. And look how much they helped out a single mom by only charging her $48. Wow! Woot! I know I would recommend this place to someone...knowing that they only charge $48 per .01 second of work.

So I trusted her recommendation, because I didnít know any better. Iíve lived in this damn town for almost 15 years and I've yet to pin down an automotive place I can go to for a straight answer. But I was thinking, wow, maybe this place will finally be my car-fixing place nirvana. So I had my car towed there about 10 days ago. I knew it needed a starter, so I told them. I do that with doctors too. I tell them what disease I have so that they can treat me accordingly. I still havenít figured out whatís wrong with me mentally, but hey, I only have so many hours in the day.

I then called them the following Monday and they agreed I needed a new starter and I had them fax over an estimate. Fortunately I was able to plug into a program that helps poor people realize their dreams. And in my case, my dream was to avoid homicidal freaks and weirdos on the bus and have my own car working again, so I was able to get some funding to fix my starter. I was very happy and excited about that. And I felt blessed. So I called a few days later after I got a check cut for the cost of the repairs and wow, guess what? Suddenly, Josh the mechanic guy had some bad news. Well gee witty, it wasnít only your starter that was fucked up. Your tie rod was about ready to snap in half, you have a hole in your gas tank, and your brakes are so worn out that we canít guarantee your safety once you pull out of our driveway.

What????????


Okay, first of all, why the hell didnít you tell me this when I was first getting my funding? Because after all this NEW bad news, you know, the new estimate to fix my car which suddenly ballooned up to almost another $500, is rather alarming, and I needless to say, I canít afford $500. And besides the car isnít worth it. I bought the damn thing for $400 two years ago. Iíve already put almost $1000 worth of repairs into it.

So I had to start subtracting things that wouldnít exactly kill me if I didnít do them right away. Hole in the gas tank. Meh! I drove my other car with a hole in the gas tank for months. Viva la Molotov cocktail. I donít smoke. I just wonít drove over hot coals or lava flows. The tie rod. Okay, that was pretty important. I already popped a tie rod two years ago. It was scary. Fix it. Brakes? Yeah, they squeal slightly, but we can wait. So they fixed the tie rod for $141.

I then called my aunt to ask my cousin if he could do my brakes. On Wednesday after ďAĒs appointment I drove up there so he could put my new brakes and rotors on. I like my cousin Alan. He is one of five kids from one of the most perfect Catholic households you could ever come from. But Alan was always a little different from his other nearly perfect siblings. While they were out playing nicely and praying and delivering my auntís cookies to the neighbors, Alan was probably farting ďGod Bless AmericaĒ down in the basement while tying the cat to the ping pong table. He was a good kid though. And he had a great sense of humor (he was my momís favorite nephew). He was always a little rambunctious. And lawdy, when he discovered sex....I think he probably (ahem) "mowed" every lawn along the street. Needless to say, he was also very nice looking (hey! runs in the family!) And as he got older, he turned into a kind of Hellís Angel type, which is so funny considering how dainty and polyster my beloved aunt is. He always either wore leather pants or jeans, a wifebeater, leather jacket, motorcycle boots, sunglasses and a red, white and blue bandanna tied over his long flowing black curly hair as he rode his motorcycle.

Anyways, besides riding a motorcycle, he also fixes cars on the side and has an actual professional garage on his property. Of course I did have to deal with his girlfriend Hardass. Theyíve been together for 2 years now and Iíve seen her at 3 dinners at my auntís house and the first time we met, she said ďhelloĒ and she's never spoken to me since, acting like Iím invisible. Why? Because sheís extremely jealous of anyone impinging on Alanís time or Alanís anything. Although for the life of me, I canít figure out why she would be jealous of me, since Iím his cousin. And Alan even acts different now. He used to be all fun acting and goofy but now heís pretty quiet, and I can see why. Sheís very abrasive and makes fun of him. And man, she sure ainít no prize. Sheís like in her mid-50ís, overweight, jet black hair, and wears cheap perfume. But she supports him and has that big garage on her property and totally domineers him. I think its kind of sad.

So she came out and sat in the garage with us for a while when he was taking the tires off my car and I tried to be friendly with her, asking her how she was, making her the star of the conversation, because that appears to be the thing to do. But her eyes never left Alan and she only gave me one word answers. Finally she had to go to work and I was relieved. And I somehow knew she was nervous about leaving ďher manĒ with the uber sexy witty.

IíM HIS COUSIN, LADY!!! We used to play as kids. He used to try and fart near me in the pool to make me scream.

Anyways, so Alan finally got the tires off and you know what? Go ahead guess? There was absolutely nothing wrong with my brake pads OR rotors. nada. nothing. ZIP!!

Bastards!

There was a little tiny bit of rust on the edge of the rotors, but Alan just sprayed some stuff on them and wiped them down and they were fine and he said the brake pads probably have another 6-8 months left on them. So he put the tires back on and I tried to pay him the agreed upon $25 and he wouldnít take it. He said he didnít really do anything, which I thought was nice and so typical of people named Alan.

So $275 brake job. Hmmm. Guess it really wasnít all that necessary, was it? I get so pissed off when people try to take advantage of people. I think this stupid auto repair shop thought, Oh, sheís getting free money, so why not pile on some extra stuff, so we can all afford a week in Florida this winter. Grrrrr!

Fortunately I was able to return the brake pads and rotors to Auto Advantage yesterday after my massage. I carried all the stuff up to the counter and the guy took the stuff out of the bag and took my receipt and then had to call a manager. As he was waiting for the manager he turned and started staring at my pentacle




and said: ďSo is that a lifestyle choice or do you just like stars?Ē

As if I would tell you, autoshop boy.


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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty

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