Right now, as I type this, I am doing something I never thought I would be doing. I am bringing my car back into the dealership.
After two really bad stalls yesterday, I had enough. I have time to go back to The Other Mechanic Around The Corner, but after bringing it in more than several times and them saying they found nothing, I would be totally crying wolf if I came back. And besides, if the car isn't fixed after they said it was the ground wire, maybe they don't know how to deal with this problem.
So I got fed up yesterday and made an appointment with the dealership for today. I feel -- feel, though I don't know for sure -- that they would be able to deal with the really complicated, vexing car issues. The Other Mechanic Around The Corner did not want to rip it apart and test everything, and I think that's the right course of action, but (again presumably) the dealership has the experts who deal with my make, so if anybody has the know-how and the technology to get to the heart of the problem, it'd be them.
Now, do I know for a fact that they will? No. I am totally girding myself for the possibility that they can't find anything. I mean, just because they're a dealership doesn't mean they can solve my problem. That sounds counter-intuitive, but it's not. Moreover, if they diagnose the problem, it will not come cheaply. This is dealership labor rates -- it's what pays for the computer I'm using in their lounge right now -- and I had to authorize at least a few hours. And that is on top of them telling me their estimate that will fix the problem.
I hope it's cheap and that they can find the problem quickly. But they warned me that this could be an electrical issue, and that would take some time. And then, if the fix is expensive, well, I'm taking the car and going to pray that it gets me back home, because I don't think I can afford to get it fixed here. But to diagnose it? That's why I am here. I'm desperate.
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This is the irony. When I brought this car to the dealership, I was praying that it wouldn't break down or stall and cause an accident on the way. (When it got bad yesterday, I was the first car in a long of cars going off of a green light. The minivan honked at me. I had to pull over to the shoulder to let her and the two cars behind her go ahead while my car got over itself and accelerated again ... only to cut off again a two miles down the road on the way to lunch. That is when I had it and decided to bring it in. I don't want that happening again.) But, if it did, that would show to me, and to the mechanics who will be going through this car, that it is indeed broken. However, the car drove just fine -- perfectly -- this morning. That's great that I got here in one piece without incident. But that might also mean that they won't be able to find anything either. God, the irony.
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I don't remember the last time I was here, but the last receipt for the car for a repair at this place that I have in my records was 2005. I remember the middleman who is helping me today; he has a steady job here, apparently. And honestly, he was looking at me with such incredulity. I don't know if he's thinking to himself, "Why in the hell are you bringing in a 22-year-old car?" or "Why do you have a turnover box with you? And how can you forget your sunglasses? I'm surprised you can put one foot in front of the other, you damn chump," or "I haven't seen your ass in a decade, and you're gonna come crawling back to us after you've gone somewhere else all these years? We're gonna screw you over so much you're gonna squeal like a pig!" That last one, that's what really scares me -- any righteousness that'll come out of me returning to the dealership after so many years away. I really don't know if they are going to treat me with any respect for bringing in a car they haven't serviced in about ten years.
But hell, if they can tell me for once and for all what is wrong with it, and then, maybe, fix it, I don't care. Well, until I see the bill.
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