February 17th 11:53pm - My Car Repels My Efforts to Sell

Excluding a sporadic, successive clicking noise, a collapsed CD player, a crippled cigarette lighter, several scratches on the rear of the car, and an abundance of accessory ailments, my Jetta was perfect. And I was selling her.

I did what any proper person would do: I paid an excessive amount to attain a spare key, I replaced the CD player, and arranged an appointment with an auto repair shop to mend the cigarette lighter and excessive clicking the next day.

Then, I jubilantly displayed the car to three parties.

One: a thirty-something man with tattoos snaking around his arms and neck with lengthy black hair that claimed he coveted the car as a commuter vehicle. He ultimately offered me fifteen hundred dollars less than I listed it for.

Two: an early-twenty-something goofy-smile girl who arrived with her brooding boyfriend. I estimate she had forcibly dragged him to view/test-drive thirty-six cars. At least. Her first question: “No heated seats?” Her boyfriend’s last comment, “Jesus, Dorothy, you’re going to kill us. Slow the fuck down.” This was precisely before she sped over a speed bump and the car crashed into the pavement emitting a perceptible protest manifested in multiple moans, one being the car’s.

Three: a sincere Scotsman. His midget-height, massive smile, ample-accent fifty-something self immediately engrossed me. The car’s clicking clamor, normally erratic, never ceased. Scotsman’s decree: I fix the click, he’d purchase the car. My response: I have an appointment tomorrow morning.

That night I drove to my friend’s house for dinner. On my return drive I noticed the Check Engine light illuminated for the first time during ownership of the car. The following morning, upon presenting the Jetta at the shop for the clicking and lighter, they informed me the car needed a new catalytic converter. As I’m a girl and have no concept what that means, I simply know it’s bad. I advised the mechanics to accomplish whatever was necessary. Upon my reappearance hours later, the owner of the shop enlightened me that my airbag light was on. I have never seen this light in my life. I was not aware of its existence. Yet, in twelve hours prior to selling it, the check engine and airbag lights illuminated, neither of which I have seen in my three and a half years of Jetta possession. My car is protesting the sale!

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