Wanna Give Me Money?

So, rarely do I find myself in a situation where I have absolutely NO idea what to do.  Last night, I was there and I’m still lingering in the neighborhood.  You may remember, about 6-8 weeks ago, my car died.  I took it to a mechanic.  A very nice guy.  He charged me $600 to replace the fuel pump.  No, he didn’t shaft me.  My dad called the local dealership in Tennessee and they would have charged a little MORE than that, so I was paying what could be considered "fair."

Well, last night, Matt and I decided to go to Target.  I needed a backpack for our big trip tomorrow (we’re going to Sea World!) and he wanted to get a messenger bag because he needs something to carry his stuff in and he doesn’t want to look gay.  I digress.  Anyway, we went to Target, in my car, and shopped for about a half an hour.  We come back out, and my car won’t start.  Turns over.  Won’t start.  It is now nearing 9:00 p.m. and my car is sitting in an underground parking lot on the corner of La Brea and Romaine and it’s dead.  I obviously can’t call a tow truck – no mechanic is open at 9 at night.  So, we walk to the parking/security office and I ask them if I can leave her there overnight.  I promise that I will call a tow truck first thing in the morning and I leave my information (car, name, phone number, etc.) with them.  Lock the car, and we walk out of the mall onto the cold streets of LA.

Fast forward through a 5 mile walk and a DEEP sleep:  We get up this morning and Matt drives me to the garage.  On the way, I call the mechanic and let him know what’s up.  He gives me the tow guy’s number and I call him.  Big problem – since he has a flatbed tow truck, he can’t go in underground parking.  Crap.  He says he’ll call his friend who has a hitching tow truck and see if he can take care of me.  Possible double crap (the first guy has a deal with the mechanic and the tow is usually in the price of "labor" – I didn’t have to pay for the tow last time). 

Matt and I pray that my car will start and run long enough to get it out of the garage and then I can call the tow guy again to come get it.  We get there, I open the car, I put the key in the ignition, I turn it.  Bam.  Isabella is singing to me.  WTF?  I have everything ready so I can pay the parking and get the heck out of there before she dies on the 40% grade hill out of the garage.  I go to the ticket machine, pay my ticket, the bar won’t raise.  Oh, hell no.  It has rubber on the bottom of it, so I gently drive up under it and let it slide up and over my car.  Heck no, I don’t feel bad – I just paid $10 to get out of that stupid gate that won’t open for me.

We get outside, she’s still running, so I roll my window down and ask Matt if he wouldn’t mind to follow me and I’ll try to drive her to the mechanic myself.  We get ALL THE WAY THERE.  I shut her off.  Let him know what’s going on.  He gets in and turns her on.  Purrs like a kitten.  He notices the check engine light is on and tells me that he might be able to figure it out.  He’ll keep it for a while, try to replicate what happened last night, etc.  So, right now, my baby is BACK at the auto shop waiting for me to pay heaven-only-knows-that-I-don’t-have-the-money-for before I can get her back.

My parents reminded me to contact Chevrolet/General Motors and let them know what happened with the fuel pump and what’s going on now because this shouldn’t happen to a car with 30,000 miles on it.  In fact, my dad said that a fuel pump shouldn’t break down before 100,000.  And, I have to say, I’ve had a couple older cars..and NEVER had to replace a fuel pump on them.  Either way, I’m really irritated.  What I would like is to cuss GM out and maybe <wishful thinking alert ahead> they’d reimburse me for the repairs.  Dirty bastards.  My car was only a few months out of the bumper-to-bumper warranty when this crap started.

Buy Toyota.