I’m a service advisor in a little shop in the Pacific Northwest. For the most part my job is what you would expect. Scheduling and checking in cars, telling the owners what is recommended and eventually releasing them back into the wild. There’s an aspect of therapist in there as well as I counsel owners on how to deal with the problems their car can throw at them. Every few weeks a car will come in that isn’t destined for that happy return to its family, it’s at the end of life.
We have four bays and, for the most part, work on four brands. Our shop only has two advisors in the office, so there’s rarely a slow moment. Within our four brands, we see a wide range of cars; anything from brand-new high-performance sports cars to abused four-wheeled appliances that haven’t seen more than a quick lube joint in the last decade will show up in our parking lot.
[Ed Note: This is Andrea’s first article! She’s a new voice with a great Twitter account. A friend suggest I reach out and I’m glad I did as it’s great to be able to highlight new, fresh voices. If you enjoy this column let us know in the comments and maybe we can do this more regularly. – MH]
Eventually, something on most cars will go bang. Or sometimes it’s a tapping noise. There are often puddles involved as well. Sometimes the voice on the other end of the phone is frantic, other times rather casual. Usually, a tow truck is involved in these calls, but some manage to weakly limp in under their own power, shaking like a nervous chihuahua or pouring fluids in a way that the EPA might declare their parking spot a superfund site. Instead of the usual two-ish week wait for an appointment, we try to fit them into the schedule in a day or two. At the very least we’ll start with a diagnostic so we can perform a little bit of triage. Sometimes this can take mere minutes, such as “I can put my hand into the transmission.” Other times the list of problems is very, very long.
A couple of times a month I make the same phone call:
“Hi, this is Andrea at the shop, is this Jimmy Car Owner? Uh, yes, so I don’t have the best of news. I’m very sorry but it seems the *insert major part here* has *insert catastrophic damage here.*” Your drive shaft has disconnected and punched holes in everything around it. Your drive belt has been sucked into the engine. Somehow, one of your pistons has migrated into the oil pan.”
Each time, I always try to deliver the news in a tone of voice one might use to tell someone a beloved pet has terminal cancer. I tell them what their car needs and that the repairs would exceed the value of the vehicle. The reactions can vary wildly, from sounding on the verge of tears to outrageous laughter.
Customer states: the obvious pic.twitter.com/xMxucuFsUl
— Andrea Petersen (@Neondancer) December 20, 2022
Everyone expresses grief differently and, at the end of the day, I’m delivering news of a death; dumping a bucket o’ grief over them like a water park splash pad. I have seen the full five stages of automotive grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Often, these are related to the recent history of the car:
“But it was fine two days ago!”
“The guy I bought it from said it only needed a…”
“Can you fix it?”
“What am I going to do now?”
“I guess I should call my insurance.”
If you are ever in this situation and have full coverage, you might consider jumping to that last one. I’ve seen cars mechanically totaled with all sorts of surprising stories, from driving over a heavy local agricultural product to “my dog jumped on the park button.” Our job is to say what’s wrong with the car, usually not evaluate how it got to that point, so if you say you ran over a cabbage at 70 miles per hour and it somehow put a hole in the block, who am I to doubt you?
“How much will it be to fix it?” is a normal question in this situation. Replacing an engine is not cheap, on the low end, it’s $8,000 at our shop to replace a dead engine with a good used one. Usually, that’s when people realize this really is the end. They come to collect their belongings, pay the diagnostic bill and leave the key for the tow truck driver who is taking it to the junkyard or the insurance auction.
I once took photos of a young couple posing in front of their dead car. I’ll never forget the sticker on the driver-side mirror of that one, “object in mirror is close to death.” Rest in peace, little Mini.
Roughly one-in-10 will ask for an actual engine replacement estimate and go through with it. They bought it at auction and expected it would need work or the car has sentimental value far beyond the monetary value. For the former, I’d like to say cut your losses, but it’s not my call to make. For the latter, I will move heaven and earth. It may take a while but you’ll get to ride with your dead loved one’s ashes in the passenger seat if you want to.
I usually count myself lucky that, overall, I like my job. Granted, I’d rather be a fabulously wealthy beach reviewer or become some sort of Italian shitbox nun living in a cloister surrounded by questionable delights, but I get to be around cars all day and often get to teach people a little about them, which brings me a bit of joy.
Unfortunately, because I care so deeply about cars, it also breaks my heart to declare them dead on arrival. I have to take a couple of deep breaths before making those calls. I know what it feels like to be on the other end, too. At the end of the day, sometimes what’s in the best interest of the owner is to tell them it’s time to say goodbye and I would hope to get the same honesty if I was in their place.
My job is to break the news, but I’m here to help you find the best way to move forward too.
(topshot by Sally Torchinsky)
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I’ve been there, a few weeks after our still new to us Mazda5 was totaled our long suffering 97 Saturn made loud noise and dumped its ATF on the ground. A good used transaxle is worth more than a,20 year old Saturn so we donated it for a free ride to Copart and the great beyond. I also had another vehicle towed from that same shop, but it was a happier ending. After the V8 in my F150 turned into a V7 I got an estimate of more than I paid for the truck to replace the heads. I hauled it home, dumped money at Rock Auto and eBay and after an epic month of weekends I had a smooth running truck and a Ford Triton cam timing kit I hope to never use again.
Top shelf content, please do more!
When the guys at the repair shop know the sound of your car pulling up outside
Ah, I know the feeling. Most of my flock is long past what any sane service writer would recommend and I’m personally keeping them alive seemingly vacillating between a spiteful and obstinate basis. Especially my Mitsubishi van, which has both 10 years of sentimental equity behind it as well as “Yeah good luck ever finding another one anyways”.
Great stuff – would certainly appreciate more! The death of a loved car is tough. I still remember the “look” the service manager would get on his face at the Cadillac/Olds dealership I briefly worked at years ago when he had to break down why a failed head gasket spelled doom for Grandma’s deVille. He’d push up his glasses, talk slower – with a slightly deeper voice, and manage to emulate a funeral director.
My favorite time this happened involved an old guy bringing his beloved ’84 Eldorado in for service from long-term storage. It was rough, with the absolute garbage 4100 “digital fuel injected” motor sputtering away on a tank of varnish as it made its way into the service area. The mechanics stared at it grimly. It needed… everything, stuff that probably doesn’t even exist anymore. The service manager dutifully writes up all this and prepares to deliver the somber news a couple of days later – after all, the bill was going to be almost $10K, probably about 10x what that Caddy was worth. Old boy thinks for a second and says, “sure – make it perfect, this is probably going to be my last car”. Mechanic responsible for the work slowly says “Oh Shit No” rather loudly after receiving his marching orders. I think it took almost a month to finish it as locating some of the parts proved challenging, but that old dude sure was happy cruising out of there. I don’t think there was a new car on the lot that would have made him smile that wide!
It’s far worse in the rust belt.
I honestly could not tell you how many great running vehicles I condemned to certain death. And I do not mean “well it could be fixed” and I do not mean “maybe the insurance will cover it.”
I mean “sir, there is absolutely nothing in existence you could sign that would get us to release this car to you.” I mean “I understand the body looks fine, but we are NOT letting you walk under the engine that is quite literally falling out of it to prove it!” And more than a few times “we absolutely did not do anything to your truck nor will we, because if we put it on a lift it will split in half.”
And there are literally no words on this earth for the absolute seething hatred and rage I feel toward the shady 5 minute oil change places and halfassed “mechanics” that just slapped a fresh coat of shoe polish on the accessory belt, ugga-dugga’d the lugs, and sent them on their way. There is absolutely no excuse for it. So, so, so many completely broken GM subframes or completely rotted through unibody crash components and very visibly broken truck frames that had been that way for months if not years.
And so many of them started screaming about how dare we take their property. We’re not bloody taking it! We’re refusing to let you be a deadly hazard to everyone on the road and yourself and reporting to your insurance that the vehicle is unsafe and unrepairable, which we are required by law to do! If we let you drive off in that Century, and the engine falls out when you go over a pothole causing an accident, then we can be held liable or even criminally charged if you or someone else is hurt. That needs to be the law in all 50 states.
On the one hand I’m glad I rarely have to deal with angry customers. On the other, since we don’t have state inspections, there’s some seriously questionable cars we have no choice but to release back to the owner with nothing more than a very strong warning.
-Andrea
Great article and it is close to may take. When the repairs cost more than monthly payment on a new car, then it is time to consider letting it go.
When a car is paid off this is easier. I look at how much per year to buy another one vs the cost per year to maintain vs can I get one that matches the condition. I had cars where it just cheaper to let it go for $200 and get another. I also have one that for the current value, I cannot touch one that has been as well maintained.
I also have the Sentiment car. The car that belongs to my mom and bought new. I would spend way more than it worth to keep it alive for the family memories. It is a well known car among family and friends.
I liked the article and would like to read more from Andrea.
Is the Autopian starting to hoard all the goths? We now have a designer goth and a racecar goth. Is Torch going to become a taillight goth?!
“The Blackout Tail Light”?
There already is a Goth club in LA called “Club Red Light”, I say we send Torch and David there for some research.
Hi Andrea. Good intro! I was hoping for some best of / worst of stories. Hopefully you can come back with some in your next piece!
Enjoyed, would read more.
Who is to say that the cabbage wasn’t three times normal size and made of steel? Part of a sign for some new coleslaw themed fast food restaurant or maybe for the Cabbage Man(tm) stall at the local farmer’s market.
“…or become some sort of Italian shitbox nun living in a cloister surrounded by questionable delights…”
That’s all I needed to read…welcome aboard!
Yes!
I saw that sentence and it confirmed that I need to see more content from Andrea.
-does your user name mean you drive an Abarth, Andrea? Regardless, enjoyed the article and hope to see more: welcome aboard!
I used to have a couple 500 Abarths, which is the origin of the name, but I also have a Lancia Scorpion. But I do miss those Abarths dearly!
-Andrea
This column, I like it.
Another!!
I’m curious if, in your experience, this dynamic has changed over the past 2-3 years. The shop I use is replacing more and more engines and transmissions since the world changed.
In the before times, people decided to use their four grand as a down payment on something new(er) rather than replace an engine or transmission. These days, four grand down doesn’t get you very far, so people are willing to spend it on repairs. Have you seen this in your shop?
Somewhat yes, but we’ve also seen a lot of broken cars dragged out of fields/barns in the hope that they will be brought back to life enough to be sold for a profit because the market is so tight. This is pretty misguided, usually they put more in than they could ever sell it for.
-Andrea
Yes! I love “tales from the service advisor” pieces! There’s something very human and equalizing about what happens in these situations. In many ways, it can be a lot like having a loved one in the hospital (obviously, not exactly the same) and waiting for a prognosis. I know some of the members here work, or have worked, in service advisory roles, and I’ve always found their comments fascinating whenever they share a wild tale. Maybe it hits closer to home because I’d considered that career path when I was younger.
I want to make a joke about preferring to fix my own body like i fix all my cars ,but it might be insulting for those in countries that *have* to do that
“What do you mean my car will never run again? What do I tell my kids?”
“Tell them it’s gone to David Tracy’s farm.
To live among its rusty friends wild and free.
Fuck, this hits deep.
My dad’s “finally made it” car was a well-optioned V6 Camry. For 12 years growing up, that car took me to every day of school, every sports match, every family event. It became mine when I got my license. I asked my junior prom date out by popping out of its trunk.
I graduated high school and the Camry passed to my older brother. It got him through almost a decade of medical training and two cross-country moves. About a year after he began practicing medicine, the starter finally gave out one morning while he was on call. A decade of multiple daily drives to a hospital don’t do kind things to a starter motor. He bought a more doctor-grade ride, left the Camry on the curb where it was parked, and handed me the title.
We replaced the starter together right there on the street corner where it had died. It was probably missing 3 quarts of oil, but that Toyota 1MZ-FE V6 sounded and felt brilliant. Good as new, more than two decades and one trip to the moon since my dad bought it. Good in my soul.
So as many Autopians do, I fell in love with my new shitbox. Dirty, underserviced fluids became fresh synthetic ones. I gave myself a week of hand cramps replacing the thermostat, but the working cabin heat was worth it. I shelled out for a complete set of front suspension parts and kept them stored in the trunk, ready for a long weekend to get it done.
That weekend never arrived.
One morning a year ago, I get a call from local police saying my car is impounded after having been found abandoned up the street from my place at 5am. Attempted theft. I show up to the impound lot thinking I have some wires to splice and maybe a key cylinder to replace. Instead, I find all the electronics completely gutted. I got the car towed to my trusty local shop.
The next day, I get the same call that the author routinely makes: $600 just to fully tally all the electrical damage, and countless thousands of repairs after that. I did the logical thing and sold it off to a scrap yard.
Handing off the keys and title to the tow truck driver was one of the worst feelings of my adult life, for reasons that don’t make logical sense, and never will. I just stood outside the shop and cried watching the tow truck pull away.
At its end of life, that Camry was worth less than most kitchen appliances. But we don’t shed tears when the compressor on the refrigerator gives out for good.
We make illogical purchasing decisions, dedicate time and blood to cold metal that has been manufactured on the scale of millions, and drool over weird trims of mundane cars. And it’s awesome.
Thanks for the reminder of why cars kick ass.
Actually, I think I love my fridge more that I could ever love a Camry. /s
I thought the same but last month I had a stripper Camry as a rental in Arizona.
That thing did over 40mpg over the entire trip (mostly highway), and I wasn’t exactly the most law-abiding citizen when it comes to speed limits.
It was large, comfy, has a good suite of safety tech (radar cruise, lane keeping, etc.), and even has Android Auto. What more can I ask for?
Thanks for sharing your story. I think you conveyed something really truthful and poignant at the end. That’s why cars are meant to be used, not allowed to collect dust in a barn, garage, or museum.
Truth, but why did you have to bring up refrigerators? Here we go…
In college my 4 roomates and I finally got a house after 2 years of dorm living. We were like brothers, living the dream. We scraped together our change to buy an old philco refrigerator from the guys graduating down the street. It was probably 30 years old and barely stayed cold. We cleaned the coils, fixed some gaskets on the door, gave it a rattle can black paint job, and installed a makeshift podium inside. After a few stints tutoring some athletes we bought the parts to convert it to a kegerator. We ran probably 100 kegs through that thing (and our livers) over the next 3 years. That’s right, takes 5 years to graduate when you drink that much beer. Then we all moved down the road together as we gaduated and that philco was one of the few things that moved with us. Eventually, years later, like a child with 5 parents we had to duke it out to decide who got to take it as we went our separate ways. I would have traded my car for that thing, but I needed to get to work some way. So off it went with my friend. I still visit from time to time. When it’s finally time for it to go we’ll surely throw it the party it deserves and probably shed a tear.
So, maybe next time mention a toaster instead. Nobody cares about toasters.
My fraternity house has an old brown fridge in a quasi common area that was already marvelously outdated when I was there in the 90s. Latching door to kill children that hide in it old.
It has never been serviced. It is seemingly immortal. I confirm its continued existence on my annual visit.
At this point it has held beverages for hundreds of young men, and everyone knows exactly which appliance “the brown fridge” is. I predict there will be some big feelings when time finally takes its toll.
I for one am looking forward to your first article.
Thank you for your service to the family Camry. You all were lucky to have each other.
It’s not just about the car, it’s about the memories you had with it.
I have a Camry story too:
My Grandma bought an 04 Camry (4 cylinder, 4 speed auto) new and my family together put a good 170,000 miles on it. So many memories in that car: road trips, an autocross session where every corner was taken on three wheels, even a trip to the emergeny room when I smashed the bridge of my nose on a coffee table. Myself and all my siblings learned to drive on it.
As an adult, I bought it off my Grandma two months before she died of old age and it became one of the few things I had to remember her by. I put another 35,0000 miles on it or so. Everyone in my family borrowed it at some point. Honestly, it wasn’t a very great car. The brakes always felt mushy (despite my efforts to fix them), it was bad on gas for how slow it was, and the suspension alternated between crashy and floaty. But then it got involved in a car accident and it would cost more to fix than it was worth. I ended up taking the check.
Even though it wasn’t a fun car or even a very good car, I had fond memories with it. Once it was gone, I could no longer point to it and be like “I remember doing such and such back when I was 5 in this car.” And that’s a damn shame.
It’s funny – out of the 33 cars I’ve owned, I’ve had to junk half a dozen, but the only two that really hurt were the two I lost to structural rust: a 1979 VW Scirocco, and a 1984 Honda Accord. Both still ran flawlessly, but were held together by the plastic trim. I drove both of them to the junkyard, even though it was suicidally reckless to do so. It just seemed right that they covered “the green mile” under their own power.
More, please.
These are the type of service advisor stories I like to hear about. Not so much the ones that drag in the world’s dirtiest air filter and claim it came off of my car even though it’s not the right shape and size and try to upsell me.
Post more!
When they’re particularly dirty I take photos to add to the repair order just because air filters are such a notorious upsell item at shops. But really, I promise, sometimes you really do need new air filters!
-Andrea
Great column. More please.
this was a great read.
I am up to 18yrs with what is my first new car and I know it’s silly but I dread the inevitable day I have to replace it/can’t fix whatever broke, but the fact that I think it still runs great and I keep up with maintenance makes it feel like that day isn’t near.
and said car is….
Good article, it does well to capture the emotion dealing with sort of situation. Also why im grateful to be able to do my own work. When my ancient rhd xj chucked a rod on the mail route, (I knew it would sooner or later,) the 5-8k bill a shop would of quoted me, (if I could find one, most won’t touch rhds,) would of been way beyond what I could afford and I would of been out my vehicle and my job. As touched on in the article. Me, 3rd generation mechanic, it only cost me a 300 dollar junkyard engine, 100 bucks in assorted parts and fluids, and a weekend in the garage. I truly feel sorry for those poor souls who face truly dire circumstances upon the news of theirs cars death.
Who would’ve thought all those years spent wrenching on shitboxes was just training me for this this brave new world we find ourselves in? My wife tolerated it, but occasionally gave me grief for all the time I “wasted.” Now that she knows I can and will do nearly any job required (with the exception of setting up new gears in a rear end). It’s peace of mind and I think she appreciates our household being a little more recession-proof.
What’s stunning to me is any CDJ dealer that “refuses” to touch the RHDs.
We loved those RHD Jeeps because there’s basically no unique parts, and they were essentially government fleet, meaning anything safety related we wrote up would get approved. Plus they were regular like clockwork. Oil change every 2 weeks. And while we’re in there, hey, this ball joint’s well on it’s way, let’s do that next service. Tires are getting near due, how’s next month for you? We’d even stay open late certain Saturdays for them.
Sounds like you’re working in a better shop than I ever did. We’d have a vehicle that needed an engine about once a year, and reliably the service manager would source some shitheap of an engine, wouldn’t do any preventative maintenance to it, get one of the guys to slap it in and send it out.
I refused to deal with any of those jobs or customers. On the odd times when they’d call I’d get in a bunch of trouble with my manager cause I’d tell them straight up what was going on.
Honesty, kindness, simplicity, and being firm in the options, keys to making sure the customer knows what’s going on and making sure they aren’t pissed at you. Nada Surf had it right with Popular, all the way back in ’96
I hear stories every now and then. Favorite is when a list is really long and the writer knows the customer will freak out, so they reduce the list to critical items. I’m talking things that need to be done for the car to survive another month. Then customer asks a bunch of questions picks the one item that is needed for it to run and get home. Oh, and also fix the radio. The rest can wait.
everyone has priorities.
This is a really common scenario. At least a couple times a week I’ll prioritize things like “Yes, you need new brakes all around, but 10% pad life won’t leave you stranded like that leaking water pump could.” I regularly make A and B sets of repairs but even then it’s sometimes really hard to get people to understand and pick the correct starting set of repairs.
-Andrea
I enjoyed this column and would happily read more- I think a more in depth single story would be fantastic.
I’ve been to mechanics too often recently… This is probably bad ju-ju to read for me.
That was lovely. Have to say, the concept of “Italian shitbox nun” is a new one for me. Always glad to learn new things.
Uncredited cameo in The Italian Job.
I think the porn version of that is The Italian Lube Job.