​​The Repair Nightmare

         

              Not all parenting experiences are wonderful. One July, twenty plus years ago, I happily loaded my newly serviced vehicle with my daughter’s boxes and proceeded to follow her from Florida’s west coast to Miami to attend Art School, a common American scenario. The plan was to stay with her overnight and return the next day. Somewhere south of home, I turned off the highway and into a gas station. I got out of my car to pump gas. I like pumping gas. It gives me a false sense of independence, freedom, and power. Unfortunately, this time was to be an exception because the pump didn't work. Silly me, the pump didn't work because the gas station was closed. I thought, “Not a problem, I'll just stop further down the road.” My daughter was about thirty miles an hour ahead of me, and I was having fun. I did not know that the bottom was about to fall out of my engine and my life.

I got back into my car and turned the key. Dead. Nothing. Oh, something must be wrong. This incident happened before every American purse was blessed with a cell phone. Still smiling, I started to walk to find a phone. I smiled because I felt worldly and wise. A worldly and wise woman has road service. After three months of being single, I was on a first name basis with the AAA locksmith. I will now just state the facts. I walked for five miles in a raging blizzard. I found a phone booth next to the Stay Away Cafe and waited two hours for road service. After being towed forty- five minutes to my daughter’s new address, the driver told me that they would not take a check to cover my extended towing charge because it was not written on a local bank. Instead, the towing company would impound my car. This was Saturday and I would have to wait until Monday to get it back. Could I pay cash? $200? Even I knew not to carry cash. This was getting very confusing. I experienced a chill and said goodbye to my car.

            On Monday, my car was released from the towing center and brought to a service station. I was told that the transmission was shot, and it would be five days before it could be fixed. They also said something that sounded like “No oil.” There is a difference between rebuilding a transmission and having a transmission replaced. I know that. Rebuild. Repair. Replace. Replace is never the same thing as rebuild or repair. Rebuild is to build again, repair is to fix. Replace means another one, maybe new, maybe not. Rebuild. Repair. Replace. Rebuild. Repair. Replace. I found a luncheonette and ordered a latte.

              As promised, on Friday, I welcomed back my precious car. I had nothing to pack so I eagerly said goodbye to my daughter who had been on a whirlwind of new student activities. She asked why I had worn the same dress for a week. Life has its ups and downs. I was glad to be back up. Smiling, I pulled into line at the toll booth leading to Home Sweet Home. As I tossed in my money, a gentle rain started. Then, something strange happened.  I watch a French language show on PBS which enables me to say with confidence "Quelle Bizarre!" My car stopped running. The engine was dead. I put my foot on the accelerator, and ...nothing. It would not start. I was at a toll booth, and it was now pouring. I had just spent a week having the engine either rebuilt or replaced, and everyone was honking at me. I spied a phone booth and stood in the rain trying to find the number of the shop that had just fixed my car. The phone book was chained to the booth in a way that did not make it possible to actually open it. I found the number and called Fool’s Auto Repair. It was now after five p.m. on a Friday, and I listened to a recorded message tell me that they would reopen Monday morning at seven. I called AAA and was towed home.

            Following what I call The Repair Nightmare, I had CHECK OIL, tattooed on my left arm. I also compiled a list of helpful Auto Repair Tip-Offs to prevent others from making my mistakes. I have been told that no one would ever make mistakes like mine, but to be positive, I have put together a list. Auto repair tip-offs are those small subtle clues that scream "STOP. GO HOME. YOU ARE MAKING A BIG MISTAKE." Now that I am auto savvy, I will help others.

          

       Auto Repair Tip-Offs

• Laughter. If at any point in your conversation with the repair crew they snicker, laugh or nudge each other, become suspicious.

• You get out of your car and there is no one there. The shop is open but empty. No one is available to check your car, speak with you or take your money. You start thinking "Just take my money and get it over with. Why also waste my time?"

• Old broken vehicles, referred to as ‘junk cars’ line the entrance to the shop. They have been there for decades. Parts? I may be wearing my

• I KNOW NOTHING T-shirt, but even I don't want these parts.

Two weeks after the Repair Nightmare, I had bumper stickers printed, HONK IF YOU HAVE RIPPED OFF PATRICIA FINN. This has attracted a large following. A network of mechanics, painters and salesmen has formed. Lasting friendships have been made. With personal growth in mind, what did I learn from this experience? Stay home. If possible, stay inside. Do not drive to Miami. Do not drive. Do not get CHECK OIL tattooed on your arm.