Monday, July 14, 2014

I Hate Cars

I was just doing what I was supposed to do. According to that little sticker on my windshield, it was time for an oil change. Being the consequent car owner that I am (or that my husband "encourages" me to be), I picked up the phone and made an appointment to get my vehicle's nasty, six month-old fluids removed. I almost didn't mind the fact that I would have to give up a couple of hours of my time to do it since I had a $20 coupon that would bring the cost down to the price of a pair of socks.

Or so I thought.

My husband and I were killing some time walking around town when the call came. Thinking it was just the obligatory call to let me know my beloved chariot was ready, I was blindsided by the news that during the mechanic's courtesy check (who the heck authorized that?) he had discovered one of my front springs had broken. After lots of discussion about my suspension system, struts, and a possible punctured tire should I hit a pothole, my friendly neighborhood repairman "recommended" that the offending parts be replaced. But, naturally, that was not the end of it because if you're going to replace one side of your car's suspension system, you have to replace the other side because you wouldn't want to drive around with one side of your car higher than the other, now would you?

Ten hours later I was $1200 poorer driving an eleven year-old car with the ride of a brand new SUV. Scratch that - I was actually $1500 poorer as my husband and I did a lot of shopping and eating as we slowly made our way back home. I guess I have to look on the bright side. The broken spring didn't blow out our tire on our recent trip back from Kentucky. We have a Firestone credit card that allows us to pay for the repair over six months without interest. And I got a pair of really cute shorts and two tops for less than fifty bucks at Talbots' 60% off sale.

Oh, and I almost forgot. I got to use that $20 coupon before it expired.

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