The mechanic won’t explain anything unless I demand it over and over again. Oh, you mean there is something else wrong that you didn’t have time to fix? Why wouldn’t you tell me that? That will make you more money!
I will never understand the bill… because it’s illegible.
I will never understand the mechanic… because he won’t actually open his mouth.
I will never understand why it’s still shaking. Why?
I’m not always sure if they actually fixed everything.
I can sense them judging me on my bumper stickers. Am I a gay, democratic, hippy-dippy, anti-war, pro-choice, freedom of religion, republican bashing immigrant? Maybe. Maybe I’m just a super-liberal loud-mouth. Don’t worry about that, just fix it.
Because I am a woman (shocking, I know), I have to be a little suspicious of everything the mechanic say, do, and claim. It’s exhausting.
When will it be done? Well, can I pick it up today? Well, I have to find a ride, so I can get there. Well, ’cause you have my car… I can’t drive myself.
My car is so, so, so dirty. I don’t want them to see it.
The thing I most dislike? MY CAR KEEPS BREAKING! It’s annoying and expensive.