Heading to the barn shortly for 90 minutes of farm chores (moving sheep and bringing the cows in out of the heat and flies) before my teaching day begins (Gulf of Tonkin in 8th; Hamilton and Burr in 7th). However my brain is stuck on a single thought: what to do about my 2008 Chevy truck.
I called the dealership yesterday after work, braced to learn the extent of the bad news, and to my surprise a voice told me brightly that the truck was ready to be picked up. “The mechanic says nothing is wrong with it!”
I have now spent over $1200 at four different shops to investigate why this truck’s wheels are seizing up — and no one can find any problem at all. Nevertheless the truck is completely dangerous. Thankfully Damon has experienced the situation or I’d almost believe the impatient you-must-be-imagining-it looks I’m getting from these men.
I don’t know what to do. If I could afford it, I’d trade the truck in on another used one. Unfortunately I don’t see how I could swing a purchase of anything right now. Moreover, what about my responsibility if the dealer sells this dangerous truck to a new buyer and that buyer is injured? Will that be my fault? Am I obligated forever to this lemon? My brain goes round and round.
In the meantime I am creeping around my pastures in my retired, rusted-out, 17-year-old pickup to water the sheep. I hear the broken frame grind against itself and hope the whole thing doesn’t crack in half and collapse on the grass.
Breathe in, breathe out.