I Don't Know If I Trust My Parents Or The Mechanic Around The Corner Less

So my fears of going to The Mechanic Around The Corner, and its subsequent trust issues, have been realized.  So not only did they have to replace the water pump and, because of its location, the timing belt as well (allegedly; I have no fucking way to figure out 100% if both parts needed to be replaced), they called me at work today saying that, in putting the engine back together, they "discovered" that a motor mount needed replacing.  But I OK'd that; it's an old minivan, and I can see My Father deciding not to fix something like that.  But he's not fuckin' here, and I am, and I determined I need a backup car just in case, so I gave the approval to get new mounts.

But oh no, that was not all.  I got cut from work early, and I was grateful this time because I got to use the snowblower on my driveway and then get to the car repair shop to pick up my car.  When I drove home, I called them while I was in my car.  No, it was not ready when I called because it just so happened that they also "discovered" that the brake rotors and pads were worn to the nub, and they were frantically trying to get the parts in order to replace them.  Mind you that unlike with the mount, they did not call me.  They just decided the brakes needed to be replaced, and they did them.  And as grateful I could be though to be, I'm kind of pissed because they in fact did not call me in order to OK the charges.

Oh yeah, about the calling ... they did fuck up, in fact, when Mother called me the previous evening about a message they got.  I called The Mechanic Around The Corner twice during the workday and they, if I have this right, did admit they called My Fucking Father's phone.  Apparently, even though I told them when I dropped off the minivan that any questions should be directed to my phone number, one of those dumb motherfuckers either forgot or didn't bother to heed my message and called My Fucking Father instead.  I would not call it a misunderstanding, rather a refusal to do what I told them to do.  And that does piss me off because now I've been had by my parents.

So I hope you understand my plight now.  On the one hand, this car repair shop is hitting me up for charges after saying, "Well, we were doing this and we just happened to notice that ..."  (This is why My Fucking Father is so mistrustful of car repair places.  Long time ago, when I still had the Lexus, I took it into a reputable independent shop who said I needed the mounts replaced.  I called My Fucking Father ... and he drove over to that shop to refuse the fix recommendations in person and get the car back -- and I think he was being a rude asshole to the people working there.  I hear they're still a good place to bring in your car, but I have never gone back there because of the embarrassing way My Fucking Father treated them.  And this was about two decades ago!)  On the other hand, My Fucking Father is fucking notorious when it comes to skimping on things he does not want to spend money on.  He'll go on a two-month cruise, but a grand to fix a workhouse vehicle?  Are you fucking kidding me?

In the end, I let those car mechanics fix whatever they claimed needing fixing, and I just threw up my hands and waited for 48 hours before getting the minivan back.  It seemed fine on the way home, which was short, but they had warmed it enough so that the thermostat would be as hot as it gets under normal driving conditions, and by the time I got the minivan home it was where it should have been: A little bit lower than halfway, but not fluctuating and certainly not spiking upward.  So yes, maybe the water pump was broken.  But I can never be too sure if they're leaning on a fear I have of being stuck by the side of the road with a broke-down car, asking any friendly face within earshot, "Hey, that's how it's usually done.  Do you want to come back a month from now for a problem we could prevent today?"  Not to mention that I couldn't tell if the engine was shaking underneath the hood.  I can tell you that the minivan braked as well as any other car on the road, so I don't know why or how The Mechanic Around The Corner decided I needed new rotors and pads.

I just hope my parents don't stick their noses further into this.  I am now of the belief that the message they left on My Fucking Father's phone happened late yesterday morning -- after they did the diagnostic on the minivan but before moving on fixing whatever it was that needed fixing.  If the needle is threaded like that, I can tell my folks that I did bring it in for a diagnostic test, but they found nothing, so I brought it back home, and they would have no idea I dropped $1,300+ to reinvigorate a work vehicle that may not need all that reinvigorating.

Honestly, I'm just glad the car is home and seemingly all fixed.  But I feel as though I got screwed by one side of this mistrust standoff (even though, to be fair, it does not look as though they charged me for the brake pads and rotors) while the other just refuses to get a broken car repaired because he's militant about spending money the way he wants to.  Lord, help me break free from this cage.