Hell

The day we left for Florida my car began making this strange flapping noise. I made the decision to not ruin the trip and simply not mention the flapping until we returned. Shockingly enough, 7 days in paradise did not erase my car troubles and when I returned it wasn't magically NOT making the noise anymore.

No, it was just louder and more menacing than before.

Needless to say, reality came crashing back...quick.

So I took my car to a local mechanic on Saturday, a guy my Dad knows through someone else...you know that kind of thing. He ended up being not entirely sure what the problem was and uncomfortable with working on such an unfamiliar car (2004 Chevy Aveo, which people still shrug their eyebrows over).

I was a bit disappointed simply because I wanted my car troubles to be OVER.

Sunday the damn thing just stopped starting. Which somewhat confirmed our suspicion that the timing belt had broke.

This morning I had another shop pick up the car with their rollback (whatever the hell a "rollback" is). They might not get to it until Wednesday, tomorrow if I'm lucky. But the labor alone, IF I'm lucky and it is indeed the timing belt, is going to cost me $175. Tack on the part, the towing and whatever else they come up with and I'm half a d-SLR out the window.

So sad.

I'm reaching the point in my relationship with this car where things begin to go wrong. The timing belt, the this or that belt, the engine...before you know it the transmission will fail me. (Yes, I'm being apocolyptic...humor me.)

I'm afraid there isn't much left in this post. I just felt the need to vent.

I hate my car, I hate car repairs, I hate money.

End of story.