When trust is broken, there’s almost no regaining it, especially when the relationship lasts as long as mine; nine years.
As I look back over those years, I wonder if things might have been different had I shown more gratitude for nearly a decade of steadfast dependability. Did I take too much for granted? Did I allow myself to get too comfortable, and assume that because everything had gone so well for so long, that things would continue that way for many years to come? Oh, how naive! How gullible!
All I know for certain is that after the series of dramatic — dare I say even frightening — events of the last few weeks, I’ve lost complete trust in my 2015 Kia Soul. I bought it in 2017 after my beloved 2005 Prius died.
I confess I treat my Kia Soul like a truck, but it never seemed to mind, or if it did, it never said so.
The first incident happened a few weeks ago as I was on my way to pick up my grandson. He’s 15, and was going to help me with some “muscle chores” meaning, helping move heavy stuff.
As I accelerated onto the freeway onramp, my car suddenly powered down, as I’d run out of gas. My dashboard lit up with with a string of warning lights: Brakes. Engine. Tires. Oil. Power steering. Antiskid. Exclamation points and maybe others I don’t remember.
I tried to take a photo but I was rattled and the focus was my steering wheel. Thank God I’d not made it onto the freeway, and by some miracle I was able to wrestle the steering wheel enough to ease my car to the shoulder. It was a triple-digit day. There was no way I would risk turning off the car and being stuck there without air conditioning. We’ve established I’m a heat weenie and am easily predisposed to heat exhaustion.
I left the engine running, and put the car in park with my hazard lights on. After a few minutes, as I waited and pondered my options, the dashboard lights all disappeared. When there was no traffic coming behind me, I put the car in drive and slowly picked up speed. Things felt normal. I decided to continue driving, no radio, no cruise control. I white-knuckled it all the way to my son’s house where I arrived safe and sound and explained what happened.
My daughter-in-law had a similar situation. And had I put gas in the car recently, because sometimes if the cap isn’t on securely it can cause problems. Gosh, come to think of it I had just gassed up the previous day.
One thing I knew for sure was there was no way in hell I felt comfortable having my grandson as a passenger for the return trip. My daughter-in-law offered for me to leave my car there, and let us take her car, which my grandson could drive, because he has his permit.
So that’s what we did. Hours later, for my return trip home, I said goodbye to my eldest son and his family and ventured out with my Kia Soul. I took back roads all the way to avoid the freeway. I was a nervous wreck the whole way. My car drove as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, this happened on a Sunday, so the dealership was closed.
I received lots of advice from family and friends. You know, if it was a one-time thing, maybe it was just a glitch, said one person. Cars glitch all the time. And did you unscrew the gas cap and put it back on? Yes. Maybe that fixed things. My brother-in-law brought over a little gizmo that’s supposed to identify problem codes, but the device showed no codes.
Even so, I contacted the dealership the next day and learned their service department was booked out solid for weeks. Even so, I asked if they could do an oil change and check the fluids and tires and all that, just in case. Sure. They did that, and all looked fine. The man at the dealership said sometimes things happen like that, but if it happens again I should let them know.
I pulled out of the dealership driveway feeling like I was driving a ticking time bomb.
Just about the time when I’d almost forgotten about the scary onramp experience, I was driving — once again on a weekend and once again to pick up my grandson — and noticed warning lights appearing on the dashboard — BRAKES and the tire warning and blah, blah, blah.
I immediately pulled over to the shoulder. This time, the car hadn’t powered down. Again, I waited with the car in park with the motor running, and the hazard lights on. Once again, eventually the lights disappeared and the car returned to normal.
This time my youngest son was in town, so I called him. He came to me and we switched cars. He drove my car home without a problem.
I called the dealership the next morning. They couldn’t get my car in for an evaluation for weeks. Of course, my car is no longer under warranty. I asked if they had loaner cars available. Nope. There’s a waiting list of something like 30 people for a loaner car. Funny, you’d think a car dealership would have all kinds of cars available. But that’s beside the point. I told the dealership employee that I was becoming afraid to drive my car. It was too unpredictable. The employee suggested that the next time the car acted up like that, I should have it towed to the dealership. I asked if that would ensure that my car would be seen sooner than in a few weeks, and was told that no, it didn’t work like that. However, there were a few days of the week just for those kinds of situations. Staff would look at the vehicle, but not necessarily work on it.
I’d mistakenly hoped it was akin to taking an ambulance to the ER rather than driving yourself; that it would mean a top-priority situation. Apparently hospitals and car dealerships don’t have that much in common. Or maybe they do, and that’s entirely different subject for another day.
I called my car insurance company to ask about car rental coverage. Was my car in a collision? No. Then no, I don’t have that kind of coverage. I’d need to pay for a car rental for what could be many weeks.
Not an option.
So I accepted the appointment at the dealership for the middle of September. In the meantime, I avoided driving my car unless it was absolutely necessary, and when I did drive, I was on high, anxious alert the whole time. My car suffered two more incidents with the lighted dashboard show, but the car never lost power, probably because I was so hyper vigilant about watching for lights that I’d pull over at the first sight of warning lights, then let it idle until the lights faded and the dashboard returned to normal.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Lord only knows how long those lights had been on during that first episode, when I was oblivious without a car worry in the world and had music blaring and my mind on everything except the dependability and possible impending demise of my Kia Soul.
Some friends suggested a particular favorite auto repair shop. I checked their Yelp reviews. Impressive. I called. They got my car in the next day. They sent a link so I could receive texted updates and digital inspection results. They gave me a ride home. I later received a text that asked if I granted them permission to replace the crankshaft position sensor, for about $623, which they could have done that day.
Yes! Where do I sign?
Nobody relishes dishing out money for car repairs, but in the scheme of things, I rationalized that this was the first trouble my Kia Soul had given me in all our years together. I’d paid off the car years ago, so I have no car payment. For me, it was well worth $623 to fix the problem and allow me to safely drive myself, my grandchildren, and others.
The car repair place sent a shuttle to pick me up to reunite me with my Kia Soul. I paid for the repairs, and even got a free sunshade that I would display proudly to promote the company that did for my Kia Soul what my own dealership did not.
The elation lasted five days. The car was up to its old tricks again yesterday, in front of the downtown post office. This time, the car powered down and I barely made it to the curb where I parked, which earned me some dirty looks from drivers who may have wondered why my little car hogged up the entire parking area.
I called a local towing company, and was told they’d love to tow my car, but unfortunately I had to go through my insurance company first, and the insurance company would decide which company to use. Fine. I pulled out my car insurance card in an attempt to request roadside assistance to have the car towed to the auto repair place. I was in phone tree hell with AI assistants that (I refuse to write “who”) kept suggesting I download the Geico app, which required user name, password, etc., etc., etc. I finally phoned the number for collisions and got a lovely human being who transferred me to roadside assistance. The sunshade was able to provide the phone number for the repair shop, which the Geico representative appreciated, so she could cross reference and find the address.
The tow truck roared up, lights flashing. Asphalt-colored clouds swirled overhead. It started to sprinkle. Normally, I love the rain. This time, I felt like crying. As the tow-truck driver dealt with my car, I marveled at all the drivers zipping around in a state of carefree ignorant bliss in vehicles they trust. I was like that once.
I later explained to my younger sister how inexplicably humiliated I felt watching my car being put on a tow truck. She nailed it: “It’s because you think that some people might assume your car was being repossessed. You know, repo in the rain.”
My little sister has a way with words.
The tow truck driver was a character whose personality almost made the awful experience worthwhile. I got to sit in the cab of the truck with him — waaaay up high — as he zipped in and out of traffic with my sick car clinging for dear life on the back of his truck, tethered only by giant hooks and medieval looking chains. The driver was a talker, and spoke freely. Oh yes, as a matter of fact, since I asked, he DOES tow a LOT of Kias.
“Kias are crap, and Kia knows their cars are crap,” he said. “As soon as you get your Kia fixed, sell it. People like Kias. They shouldn’t, but they do. Then you buy some used Toyota Camry. Or a Honda.”
He said Toyota’s last forever, and they’re dependable.
Unlike Kia Souls, apparently. And my Kia only has a bit more than 64,000 miles, so high milage isn’t the issue.
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When we arrived at the auto repair place I unloaded my car of things I would need, which included a few sticks of lumber I’d bought for a project, because who knows when I’d see my car again. As the tow truck driver unhooked my car — with the auto repair sunshades displayed smartly under the windshield – and rolled it onto pavement, I didn’t feel very hopeful about it anymore. I worried that I’d just spent more than $600 on something that perhaps wasn’t the main problem after all. I couldn’t afford to keep throwing money at this little unreliable death trap with crappy inferior Kia paint that’s oxidized from sun damage to play an expensive game of car-repair whack-a-mole.
Suddenly, I felt no love at all for this car that I once thought was so darn cute, the car my granddaughter used to say reminded her of chocolate.
Now, it reminds me of shit.
My twin let me borrow her car since she wasn’t using it for a few days. At some point, she’ll want it back.
I received a text from the auto repair place yesterday afternoon: “Hi Doni. We have driven the vehicle 80 miles and have not had the issue occur.”
I’m not surprised. I remember taking my kids to the doctor and having them be symptom-free by the time we arrived at the appointment.
The message from the auto repair business went on to say that they would be closing for a 4-day weekend, and if possible they’d keep the car and try it again next week.
My twin said I could continue using her car. When she needs it back there’s always Uber, and there’s DoorDash, and I work from home, so it’s not like I have to leave to drive to work.
Although for a variety of reasons this is the worst possible financial time to consider breaking up with my car and hooking up with another, the tow-truck driver’s words are ringing in my ears. “Kias are crap.”
I suppose I should call the dealership tomorrow and cancel that appointment.
In the meantime, I’m being extra nice to my washer and dryer, my dishwasher, my refrigerator that’s been making weird noises lately, my aging AC unit, my computer, and my phone. I will not take them for granted. All I can do is keep up my end of the relationship. The rest is up to them.
