This is the THIRD time that the brakes are giving me problems (I know that I'm supposed to list each problem independently, and I will get to that!), but I had to gripe about today's experience. I reached 90,000 miles on my original brakes, so figured that I'd have them repaired, because I do a lot of driving in the mountains of North Carolina.
Anyway, the first time they were replaced, they squealed loudly (think pig's tail being PULLED OFF HIS BODY sound, times 100). I couldn't take that sound more than one day, so I called the mechanic and when he heard the noise, he agreed to replace the brakes pads again -- no charge (AS IF I was going to pay for him to fix his mistake).
After him taking three days to replace the brakes, the squealing doesn't begin until the third day I'd had it back. Almost had me fooled that it was fixed correctly. Hah! Again I call the mechanic, again he promises to fix the squealing sound (I also ask him if the sound is the only thing I should be worried about, because the brakes just don't seem like they're gripping real well -- but hey, what do I know?) The mechanic takes the vehicle AGAIN, does some minor tweaking and viola', the brakes are quiet and seem to be working fine.
Well, I figure that I can now safely drive 300 miles each way to my condo in the mountains of North Carolina. What a complete disaster. It rained the entire journey, including an evening drive up the mountains toward Highlands, at night, in the fog, with loudly squealing brakes. I had taken a friend with me. First I was embarrassed, and then I worried that we maybe wouldn't get back the mountain.
When I FINALLY make it home safely (whew, that was very unpleasant, but at least my friend is still speaking to me), I call the mechanic, he tweaks something again, and all seems well.
This morning my husband and I load our bikes into the station wagon and we're going to the beach. Hah!!! As I open my window to pay the toll-booth attendant, I smell something burning from the back of my station wagon. Yep, you guessed it. The brakes were smoking like a son of a gun. My husband thinks I should drive it home (30 miles) and hope for the best "since we've got a fire extinguisher, honey". Nope, I called AAA, waited for a ride, and listened to my husband rant at me. I cannot wait until tomorrow when I get hold of that mechanic. At this point I want my money back and I'll go to another shop. I've used this mechanic for 25 years, but something just isn't right.
This is the THIRD time that the brakes are giving me problems (I know that I'm supposed to list each problem independently, and I will get to that!), but I had to gripe about today's experience. I reached 90,000 miles on my original brakes, so figured that I'd have them repaired, because I do a lot of driving in the mountains of North Carolina.
Anyway, the first time they were replaced, they squealed loudly (think pig's tail being PULLED OFF HIS BODY sound, times 100). I couldn't take that sound more than one day, so I called the mechanic and when he heard the noise, he agreed to replace the brakes pads again -- no charge (AS IF I was going to pay for him to fix his mistake).
After him taking three days to replace the brakes, the squealing doesn't begin until the third day I'd had it back. Almost had me fooled that it was fixed correctly. Hah! Again I call the mechanic, again he promises to fix the squealing sound (I also ask him if the sound is the only thing I should be worried about, because the brakes just don't seem like they're gripping real well -- but hey, what do I know?) The mechanic takes the vehicle AGAIN, does some minor tweaking and viola', the brakes are quiet and seem to be working fine.
Well, I figure that I can now safely drive 300 miles each way to my condo in the mountains of North Carolina. What a complete disaster. It rained the entire journey, including an evening drive up the mountains toward Highlands, at night, in the fog, with loudly squealing brakes. I had taken a friend with me. First I was embarrassed, and then I worried that we maybe wouldn't get back the mountain.
When I FINALLY make it home safely (whew, that was very unpleasant, but at least my friend is still speaking to me), I call the mechanic, he tweaks something again, and all seems well.
This morning my husband and I load our bikes into the station wagon and we're going to the beach. Hah!!! As I open my window to pay the toll-booth attendant, I smell something burning from the back of my station wagon. Yep, you guessed it. The brakes were smoking like a son of a gun. My husband thinks I should drive it home (30 miles) and hope for the best "since we've got a fire extinguisher, honey". Nope, I called AAA, waited for a ride, and listened to my husband rant at me. I cannot wait until tomorrow when I get hold of that mechanic. At this point I want my money back and I'll go to another shop. I've used this mechanic for 25 years, but something just isn't right.
- southerngal0724, Brunswick, GA, US