The controversial review from an ignorant driver attempting to get his motor vehicle repaired – without the use of dirty flirtatious seduction, and promiscuous behaviour.
If you have had good service from them. Good for you. Kindly leave. If you haven’t, please stay. Take a seat. Cup of tea? Thats it. Now lets bitch together and form the anti-christ.
So my car(vintage voksie), recently decided that it prefers me using my legs for a bit.
I’m pretty certain, that in a parallel universe… this would not be the case.
It all started one sunny afternoon whilst traveling along a modern day path made for modern day vehicles – and for some strange reason, also annoying cyclists. Everything was peachy, until I attempted and failed to make the jump to light-speed. I punched it, foot flat, and it just didn’t want to put out anything at all.
So I take it to these fuckers down on the main rd in the Hoek, Pitstop, and they have it for 2 days…
(Now during these 2 days, I was told many things – “Yeah we found the prob, just replacing the condenser mixing effort contraption, and the distributer reprotractorerer”. Followed by “Yeah, it seems there was some dust lodged up in the thermal trangressor.
Bare in mind however, I am about as knowledgeable on cars, as I am on the female mating schedule. So after numerous calls – I had to call them, cause they love it that way, seeing as they must clearly have misplaced their ability to dial a clients fucking number and inform them on vehicle progress – I just went there to see what was going on).
Eventually, I leave the workshop yesterday evening, with the car sounding like it just came out of a backyard in Ocean View (they put on a new exhaust for some reason? – must have been part of the usual fuck-a-person-over troubleshooting guide for idiots). Okay kewl, I can deal with a new noise… as long as I can get. The. Fuck. To. Work.
But no… It STILL doesn’t want to travel vast distances in milliseconds – as it used to. Now this is R2.6k later – mother of God. I now have a lousy driving car, with a louder fucking noise.
Anyways, so I take it to them this morning, furious and foaming from my devil horns.
…They end up fucking around with it, like a bunch of shirtless penis-shaped-rock-collecting fairies, for who knows how long.
Finally… they fire-up the dying beast, and it begins to make some foreign clanging sound (a sound that its never made before – they blame the last mechanic that worked on the car)…
Now… hahah…. I’m getting told, I need a new bloody motor…. ?!?$$$E$!@$ … and its gonna cost 8k. This on top of the 2.6k. Total, 10.6k. I could buy a bloody beetle for that.
Barely able to sense anything other than the feeling of 2.6k being tugged out my ass, followed by a 12inch wrench being lodged up, I decided to call the mechanic I used 1 year before. He arrives in haste, looks about, listens a bit, and proceeds to tell these professionals that their Ma Se Falep (in 12 unknown languages), before politely requesting that I drive it to his crib.
All in all. I honestly feel like I just payed for a Pitstop gang-rape – and it didn’t even feel good, plus it was rather pricey. Thus, if you looking for good, cheap, pleasant gang-rape, don’t go to Pitstop in Fish Hoek.
Apologies for bitching.