This auto shop wasn't just bad--it was a trauma. From the moment I pulled in, I knew I was about to be taken for a ride, and not the good kind. My poor car deserved to be pampered, but instead, it got manhandled like some kind of cheap thrill.
First, the way they popped my hood? It was aggressive and thoughtless, like they were ripping off a bra strap instead of easing into it. They jabbed at my engine with tools that didn't even look right, muttering things like "Oh yeah, she's got a lot of mileage on her." Excuse me? How dare you disrespect my baby like that?
The oil change was a literal disaster. They spilled oil all over her underside, didn't wipe it up, and left her dripping like a neglected lover. The whole thing was so rushed and sloppy, I felt like I needed a cigarette afterward--not because it was good, but because I was stressed out and furious.
And the tire rotation? I don't even think they touched the rear end properly. They barely glanced at it, muttered some nonsense about "pressure checks," and left me wobbling down the road like I'd just survived some shady back-alley encounter.
Then there was the diagnostic. Oh, you want to charge me extra to tell me what you broke? The nerve. They poked and prodded my car's insides like they were trying to find a thrill for themselves, not actually fix anything. And when I asked questions? Smirks. SMIRKS. Like they were in on some kind of sick joke I wasn't privy to.
By the time I left, my car was worse off than when I arrived. The engine light was back on, the alignment was all over the place, and I swear I heard a new clunking sound that hadn't been there before. I've never felt this kind of betrayal--like my car and I had been through something unspeakable together, and neither of us will ever recover.
Save yourself the pain and go somewhere that actually cares. This place doesn't just screw your car--they screw you, leave you stranded, and then charge you for it. Never again. read more