Buying a shitbox car for $500 was an unfortunate purchase for me, but in order to get to my college classes and my multiple jobs depending on the day, it was a much needed purchase. But the last thing I needed was a break up over a text "Ashley I'm done." So the last few weeks, I've felt broken and numb only made worse by my car needing major repairs in order to pass state inspection.
Sitting in the customer service area, dressed in a short blue ruffled skirt, worn sneakers and tight fitting black long-sleeve shirt that hugged my curves, going back and forth between my phone, or textbook, incredibly apprehensive about the possible price tag and not really wanting much conversation though the other customers meant well. The master mechanic working on my car was also the shop manager and kept splitting his time between the desk and my car only increasing my frustration.
Finally after sitting in the stuffy office for three hours, "Ashley, the car is ready. I'd like to cover a few things about what we fixed." Holding the door, I grabbed my bags and walked into the shop floor to my car. For an auto body shop it was nice a cool with an early fall breeze blowing through the doors. Listening passively to the mechanic about what they fixed, u finally tuned in when I heard the price tag, "It's going to be $1,300." He said bluntly.
