1. I still do not have my car.
2. I may never get my car back.
3. Jesse has stopped calling me.
On Wednesday, it was Stacy who called to tell me that my heater core needed to be replaced. Once again, I’m no car mechanic, but anything with the word “core” in it sounds pretty important (read: expensive).
Stacey: “You need a new heater core.”
Me: “Heater CORE? That sounds expensive.”
Stacey (the straight-shooter): “It is. It’ll cost ya $1200.”
Seems like $1200 is the magic number over there.
Me (kinda-maybe-sort of-semi-serious): “I don’t want to put more money into the car. I think it would be better to just trade it in for a new car.”
And thus began my new friendship with Neil The Sales Guy.
I typically dislike most salespeople – I don’t even like people approaching me in Banana Republic. I mean, I’m 33 years old and have a pretty good sense of style; I don’t need help picking out a shirt, thank you very much.
But over the last 5 days, Neil is sort of growing on me. We’ve driven all over town together in a plethora of vehicles. I know all about his girlfriend and his condo on the beach, and how hung over he was on Saturday morning after partying with his old college buddies the night before.
Bottomline: either I get a new car or fix the old one.
I don’t want to fix the old one because I’m afraid something else is going to go wrong. And I’m afraid to fix it to try and sell it on my own and then have nobody want it.
Oh, and if I fix it, I will still have to put new tires on it for the winter (cha-ching! Add another $800).
WTF??? Why can’t I catch a break?
So basically, they are (sort of) holding my car hostage while I make a decision. And I'm horrible at making decisions. You should see how long it takes me to decide on a pair of shoes!
All of this car business is totally stressing me out.
I can’t wait to relax tonight on my mat at Pilates…downwind from the geezer, natch.