One Holly Springs woman’s tale of fiscal automotive heroism

Let’s talk about Caveat Emptor, which, as you probably know, is Latin for an early model Roman four-door sedan. (The name Chevy Impala was already taken.) Which brings me to the particular category of purchases in which you should exercise caution: car repairs.

For the record, I have expert technical knowledge in a few subjects: ballet, phlebotomy, English grammar. (Need the subjunctive tense explained? I’m your woman!) But when it comes to cars, I am a complete idiot. I wouldn’t know an oxygen sensor from Oxyclean. So the thought of getting my auto fixed makes me a little queasy.

But I had to do just that recently when our car’s power steering went out and hubby was too busy to take it in himself. The engine had started making horrible, saw-like squeals, and the steering wheel turned stiffer than a sullen 2-year-old resisting steamed spinach. I made an appointment with the service department of one of the behemoth car dealerships in the Triangle. (I won’t name names).

They do run a smooth ship: The service rep was a handsome young man (such a pleasant, articulate and effective person I can only surmise he was working at this particular job pending acceptance to medical school). The waiting room was a sunlit atrium replete with pastries, apples and a gleaming hot-beverage machine – which I think was developed for use on the Space Shuttle – that offered no fewer than nine varieties of instant coffee, tea or hot chocolate. I helped myself and sat down, but before l could finish my first cup of Colombia-Almond-Vanilla-Hazelnut-Macadamia-Nut-Biscotti Roast, my smart-looking service rep was back with an estimate in hand.

“OK, Mrs. Durand,” he cooed benignly, “it is indeed the power steering – you need a new hose.” He handed me the written report, which listed exactly three items – hose, O-ring and fluid – for a grand total of $586. “It will take about three hours,” he said. “Would you like to wait and have it done now?”

“Um,” I hedged. (Wasn’t an O-ring something that had to do with contraception? Is that really a car part?) “I have to pick up my son at school,” I fibbed, “so I guess I’ll call you to reschedule.”

I fled home. In desperation, I took to the Internet. I searched for “power steering hose replacement Raleigh” and found a site called Yourmechanic.com. I typed the make and model of my vehicle and my ZIP code, and within a nanosecond I had a quote from a mechanic who would come to my house and perform the repair, parts and labor included, for a total of $243.

But it gets better: The kindly technician showed up two days later as scheduled and within five minutes had my car up on blocks in the driveway. (Sadly, they don’t tote around hydraulic lifts). He soon reported, “You may actually not need a new hose, Ma’am. Let’s just try replacing the fluid first.” In 20 minutes he was finished: The engine purred like a kitten, and I could turn the wheel with one finger. Total cost: $77 and change.

I have spent too many years not watching my money as carefully as I could. I subconsciously figured that, being middle class, we had sufficient resources not to … well, haggle. But as my father says, there’s a fine line between due diligence and paranoia. My mother, who hails from the more paranoid branch of the family – and perhaps because of that inherent mistrust is a much better money manager – was truly proud when I regaled her with my tale of fiscal automotive heroism. Sometimes a little paranoia is a good thing: There will always be people willing to take your money.

I harbor no ill will toward that big dealership. They have more overhead, after all: hydraulic lifts, space shuttle coffee ... and someone has to pay for Beautiful Service Rep’s gap year between college and med school!

But it’s just not going to be me this time. Buyer, beware.

This story was originally published October 23, 2015 at 5:43 PM with the headline "One Holly Springs woman’s tale of fiscal automotive heroism."