My car, my brand new car, which has been a source of happiness for me, is being repaired.
Carol and I were coming home from food shopping last Saturday when the engine started to skip. Buck, lurch, stutter. Not uncontrollably, but enough to make me nervous. I took it for a ride on Sunday hoping the problem was just a weird one time deal - it was not.
Did some research over the weekend that turned my stomach. Found many complaints from owners of 2020 Hyundai Elantras who had the same problem as me and ended up getting new transmissions. I chose to believe my situation would not be that drastic.
Brought it in to the dealer yesterday. Let me emphasize - I brought my brand new car into the dealer yesterday - something I didn't expect to do for ten years. After a two hour wait, they told me I was all set.
I was on the road for two minutes and the car skipped. And skipped and skipped and skipped. I was fucking furious. I drove it a few miles down the road, turned around, and flew into the parking lot. Jumped out of the car, walked up to the guy that told me I was "all set" and yelled at him that the car was still skipping. Even worse than before. They gave me a loaner.
When I got home there was a message on my phone saying they will have to replace the transmission. I'll have it back on Monday or Tuesday. It's on warranty and will cost me nothing but that is not the point.
This is a brand new car. I have had it for 6 months. It has 4900 miles on it. Every time I drive it I get happy. I should not have to deal with this. I am pretty sure the last new car I bought was in 1990. 30 fucking years ago. That's a long goddamn time to wait for a little peace of mind.
The maintenance guy fucking lied to me. After the two hour wait he told me they test drove the car and everything was fine. There's no way that five minutes later when I was in the car it suddenly went downhill. Either they didn't test drive the car or they did and lied about it being fine.
I am going to make their lives a living hell.
But the damage has been done. That car was a source of happiness to me. The day I first drove it home was a fucking holiday in my mind because good things don't happen to me. It was surreal. I felt like maybe things were turning around.
Apparently not. I will never trust the car again. Every time I drive it I'll be looking for signs of transmission trouble. I found someone online who had the same problem twice, once before and once after a new transmission had been installed.
I will take a chance on a new transmission. But on my terms. Today I will make it clear to the dealer that all the original warranties will still apply, and that I need that assurance in writing. If they refuse to do that I will demand a new car. Period.
I fucked up my life. I am paying for that every day. I underachieved, I didn't think, I didn't try hard enough and life has been making me pay for that forever.
You can't ignore life. You gotta deal with it. And if you don't handle it intelligently it eventually says "Fuck you, loser" and sets about torturing you. I firmly believe that.
This particular punishment is exceptionally painful. A brand new car is a big deal. A source of pride and a reprieve from breakdowns and emergency repairs. Something shiny in your life that you can rely on for a while.
I cannot tell you how many times I have been towed in the past 30 years. How much money I have spent on repairs. It is a lot.
I am not expecting much of anything from here on out. Except unhappiness.
Yesterday I almost exploded in anger and frustration. Today I feel deflated and defeated. My soul is on life support. Frankly I don't give a shit what the outcome is.
I'll just deal with it and forget about trying to be happy.
It's a fucking myth anyway.
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