I had it hauled away on a Monday. Had to lie and say I was Father in order to get it towed from our driveway, which is weird because when I called a few weeks before that they were totally fine with it (I had to cancel that tow order because Father spontaneously decided Mother and he were going to take a cruise to Scandinavia). Didn't think much of it; if they said they could fix it for a grand, I figure that they'll take their time fixing it, and if it turns out it'd be more expensive, I had already cleared the car of everything I wanted. Either way I have a car to use.
So on Friday I'm just driving around spending money I shouldn't be spending when I look down on my phone and see Father tried calling me. I wait until a time where I would theoretically be on break to call him back. When I do, he asks me where the wheel lock is. Why would they need to remove the lug nuts from the car, I ask. The mechanic we towed the old car to said it needed new brakes. Bullshit it needs new brakes, I thought. The reason I haven't been able to use the car -- the reason I got a new damn car -- is because the head gasket blew, causing the engine to overheat. I don't know what the hell they're doing with the brakes.
So after I find the number for this shop (I thought I had the card in my pants but turns out I didn't because I switched pants and didn't transfer all the crap I have in them; this is the downside to not wearing the same pair for the entire week, like I usually do) I immediately lay into them -- "Why in the hell are you changing the brakes?" And then once I tell them not to do anything until I can get the wheel lock to them -- which, because I'm "working" on this Friday, would have to be Saturday morning -- they then tell me, "Oh, well, I busted the lug nuts that needed the wheel lock."
YOU BUSTED THE LUG NUTS?!?!?! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!?!?! I don't know of a mechanic who'll just bust lug nuts if they don't have a lug with the pattern on that'll help twist them open. Fuck fixing the brakes that don't need fixing; who does that? I asked them, and it appears they called My Fucking Father that morning and said, "We need to change the brakes, but we can't find the wheel lock for the lug nuts with that squiggly pattern to them!" And so My Fucking Father said, "OK, why don't you just break them open?" No! How about you don't do a fucking thing until My Fucking Father asks me where it is, so I can get the wheel lock to you guys, so you don't have to damage any part of my goddamn car. How's that?
I still can't figure out who I should be more pissed at -- the mechanics who just said, "OK, I'm gonna fix the brakes now, goddammit, so I'll use this 'special' tool to break them open!" (say this with a stupid-person voice), or My Fucking Father, who basically said, "Yeah, OK, you have my permission to turn the car into shit. My son, the person who loved the car for 22 years and will be the one driving it if you fix it won't mind!" (also say this with a stupid-person voice). Why couldn't these fucking people wait? And why did My Fucking Old Man let them damage my car?
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Saturday morning I go there and give them the wheel lock. For all I know they didn't need it; they really did tell me they had this "special" tool they used to bust two of the lug nuts open. If they had that tool, I don't see why they wouldn't just use that fucking thing for the other two, so they could go at the brakes as soon as they goddamn wanted to.
And they very well could have. Because when I got home, which was around 3:30 in the afternoon because I decided I was too bored to actually do stuff around town, there was the old car. What the fuck? I dropped off the wheel lock at around 9:30. Could they have done the whole thing in six hours? Perhaps. Or they just looked at the wheel lock, think, "Why the fuck did he give us this?" and just tossed it in the car as soon as I left the shop. Dumbasses.
So what basically happened, I am guessing, is that they see this car, decide for some fucking reason that the brakes needed to be changed (to the tune of an extra $350, I might add), can't find the wheel lock for the lug nuts with that pattern on it, call My Fucking Father, who said, "Eh, what the hell, do what you like!" and they damaged beyond repair lug nuts that need a wheel lock so my wheels and tires don't get stolen. And then they make me wake up and drive down to south Minneapolis on a Saturday morning to deliver a part they may not have needed after all. What the fuck kind of shit-ass clown show is this?
And I don't even know if it works. My Fucking Father said it ran fine; in particular he said that there was sufficient power when driving on the highway (powerlessness is a main symptom of a blown head gasket). I need to drive it, hard, around the Twin Cities to make sure it can at least be used as a winter car. I have a bad feeling that the wheels and tires of the lug nuts they broke through will magically fall off while I'm driving on the highway so I'll be desperately dragging the ass half of my car over to the shoulder, sparks flying like it's the fucking 4th of July.
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