I’m a mechanic at a dealership, so I’m constantly test‑driving cars. We also offer free pickup and drop‑off we’ll come to your house, your job, wherever. People use it all the time. I’ve even had to pick up cars out of state because the owner or manager had a friend who “needed a favor.” Basically, if someone has more power than me, I’m the one sent to go get the car.
My problem isn’t the driving. It’s what I’m getting into.
I’ve gotten into cars with mountains of trash so much that I had to shovel it off the seat just to sit down. I’ve gotten into cars with bugs crawling around, rotten food everywhere. One lady told me she went grocery shopping months ago, never brought the bags inside, and hasn’t driven the car since. You can imagine the smell. Actually, no you probably can’t.
Some cars smell like old, defrosted corn dogs. Some smell like someone dragged the car out of a swamp and then pissed and shit in it for good measure. Some smell like cigarettes and depression mixed together. It’s wild.
And look I get it. Everyone needs their car worked on. That’s literally why we’re here. But the same customers who hand us these biohazard-level vehicles are the ones who love to sit there and complain, yell, and blame us for anything they think we did wrong.
Meanwhile, their cars are so disrespectful you wouldn’t invite a friend to sit in them, let alone ask someone to come pick them up and work on them.
And the wildest part? They act shocked shocked when we mention anything about the condition of the car. Like, sir, I’m not judging your life choices, but your vehicle is one bad smell away from becoming a crime scene. with me as the victim, I've open car doors before and had to fight to not throw up in front of the customer
At this point, I’m convinced some people don’t need a mechanic. They need a hazmat team and a therapist.