Bless a couple of local mechanics.
They’ve cured my fear of taking my vehicle in for tune-ups and repairs and restored my faith in the profession in the process.
A few years ago, I was unfortunate to cross paths with a couple of dishonest incompetent mechanics at Canadian Tire (also known as crappy tire for obvious reasons) when I was visiting relatives North of the border.
Uh-huh!
Since that time, I have dreaded a trip to a local car repair shop, choosing to procrastinate instead.
For instance, I took my car in for a much-needed tune-up and oil change, at a service station in a Toronto-area location downtown.
After gobbling down a snack, the shop’s mechanic informed me that the work had been performed on the engine, so I paid up and cruised off.
Within minutes, I was heading down Yonge Street to hook up with friends.
Suddenly, the driver’s wheel started pulling in one direction, and I started to lose control.
I managed to maneuver the disabled car over to the side of the road - after narrowly avoiding crashing into other startled motorists - in adjacent lanes.
At the curb, I shuddered a sigh of relief - took a deep breath - then decided to take a gander under the hood.
Within minutes of inspecting the engine, I spotted a large object wedged inside the fan belt area.
I pulled the object free - it was about a foot-and-a-half long - and inspected it up-close.
It appeared to be a specialty tool of some kind.
Immediately, I dailed up the mechanic, and proceeded to relay what had taken place.
“Oh, I wondered what happened to that tool. It cost about $200 bucks. Can you bring that back to me, please?”
I was shocked by his devil-may-care attitude.
He didn’t apologize or express any remorse about the mishap either.
What really irked me was the fact that I nearly got into an accident on a busy city street - because of his negligence - and he simply didn't care.
On another occasion, I took my car to have the motor on my trunk fixed, when it failed to automatically close with a gentle tap to the hood.
When I parked the vehicle in the stall at the mechanic's shop, I immediately rolled the window down on the driver’s side to prevent a lock out.
For good reason.
If he engine was running on that model, and the door swung closed, it would lock automatically.
So, to prevent that from happening, I forewarned the mechanic about the potential problem.
He stared at me like I was a fool.
“Do you honestly think that I am that dumb,” he appeared to be thinking, as he glared at me with an incredulous look on his mug.
Normally, I do not leave my car unattended, but that day I had many chores to undertake.
So, I dashed off, as the grease monkey began to work on the vehicle.
About an hour later, my beeper went off frantically, about a dozen times or so.
It was the mechanic.
“I got locked out. Do you have another key,” he sheeplishly asked.
Uh-huh.
He rolled the window back up after I strode off the lot, and when he stepped away from the door, it swung closed and locked him out with the engine running.
By the time I got back to the shop, he had broken into my vehicle, and damaged my high-tech security alarm in the process.
It never functioned ever again the same expert way it once did after that troubling incident.
So, what became my golden rule, after that?
I vowed to never let a mechanic touch my vehicle again.
That also applies to valet parkers.
I would rather park my own car, and walk several blocks, then let them loose inside my precious car.
Once their grubby paws - and bad energy permeates the car - it’s a goner believe me!
For the most part, that rule of thumb, has kept my vehicle purring along beautifully without much need of anything save for top-ups of oil, gas, water, brake fluid, and so forth and so on.
Unfortunately, during the past six months, a couple of little glitches reared their ugly head.
But, rather than face an unpleasant experience with a snotty mechanic - and costly repairs - I let the malfunctioning parts slide.
Not a good idea, I know, because if you neglect teeny-weeny little problems on a car, they usually escalate from minor annoyances to major headaches with big bucks repair bills to boot.
‘Til this past week!
I was cruising around Las Vegas when I spied a sign in a shop window for a service I needed.
So, on a wing and a prayer, I cruised in and approached the mechanic on duty.
In a few minutes flat, the problem was corrected, at a palty sum of $10.00.
Yesterday, I encountered the same good fortune, with a second mechanical whiz.
I managed to stumble on a dude who fixed the other problem for a sawbuck as well.
Cash on the barrel.
No fuss.
Tonight, I’m going out to celebrate my good fortune.
My SUV is humming along now, thankfully!
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