The Deathtrap: An Ode to My 2014 Jeep Cherokee

All my life I've always wanted a Jeep.  My brother had two, my father had two, we used them for work, and I've driven and loved them all.  In April of 2014 I finally decided to spring for a new Jeep, a Jeep that, after all these years, I could call my own.  I saved up for all the bells and whistles (GPS, huge sun roof, heated, leather seats, etc).  It set me back a pretty penny, but I thought to myself: "Hey, it's a Jeep.  It'll keep me safe and last forever!".  So I dropped the money, signed the papers, and drove off the lot in a brand new 2014 Jeep Cherokee Limited.  All was well, until about four months into my ownership.

As I sit here writing this today, about a year and a half since I bought it, I curse the day I ever laid eyes on my Jeep.  I look at it now like an evil ex-wife who stole all my money, my time, my energy, and left me high and dry with a half-ass sorry note and a bunch of lawyer bills.  Essentially, that is exactly whats happening.  Grab some popcorn and get ready to feel my pain.

In the beginning of April, 2014 I purchased a brand new Jeep Cherokee Limited with all the accoutrements I wanted.  I was enthralled, ecstatic, utterly elated.  After all these years and hard work I finally had enough to purchase my dream vehicle.  I drove it off the lot and proceeded to drive it everywhere; even taking it on a cross country road trip.  Even then I noticed the transmission was a little uneven, but I told myself it was the new fancy 9-speed engine and didn't think much about it.  Upon my return from the trip was when my first engine light came on, and I noticed the transmission was a little more than uneven as my car began to sputter a lot.  Knowing it was a new car I only took it to Jeep dealers to be worked on.  I took it in, was informed it was "a computer issue" and that they updated it, changed the oil, and all was well.  Which was true for about a week or two.

One night while driving home from work on the Taconic State Parkway at about ten at night my Jeep freaked the hell out.  I lost power steering, I lost control of the gas, the windshield wipers went on, the lights flickered, and my dashboard lit up like the fucking 4th of July, minus any and all enjoyment.  Luckily it was pretty empty at that time of night so I was able to coast off the side of the highway and managed to restart the Jeep and, very, very, carefully get it home.  The next morning I took it to a "certified Jeep dealer" and, lo and behold, it was another computer problem.  So they updated it, changed the oil, and sent me on my merry way, again. 

Two weeks later, and this has happened ever since, my car sputters violently as I drive and shuts off randomly, and to reiterate, WHILE DRIVING IT.  Ever since then I've been taking it to "certified Jeep technicians" to diagnose (between a recall every other week it seems) this problem every time it happens.  So I decided to go to the source and call Chrysler, who opened a case on my Jeep and told me to take it in for service and that they would pay, or rather reimburse me, for the tests and my rental car.  When I took it they found out my Jeep was 3 qts low on oil and is burning it at a rate of about 1qt every 800 miles.  Allow me to repeat.  My brand new, 4 cylinder, 2.4 L engine, Jeep with it's magical synthetic oil that I was told I must use, that I was also told I would not have to change until every 5,000 to 7,000 miles (I was at just about 5,000 at this time), was almost 3 ENTIRE QUARTS LOW ON OIL.  That's half of what should be in there, and there was not a single indication that the oil was that low....well other than my car turning off mid drive, or so they said.  So they "fixed" it once again and sent me on my way, once again, only to have the same thing happen within two weeks of me leaving the dealer, once a-fucking-gain.  This time, however, I was driving down a windy road, at night, in the rain.  The car turned off out of nowhere and I careened off the road, managed to avoid a tree, and landed in a ditch full of boulders.  I blew a tire and destroyed my under carriage.

The next day I called Chrysler, again, to voice my concern and was forced to drive the car for another two weeks until I could get it into yet another "certified Jeep dealer".  Thankfully nothing happened between the time I called and the time I brought it in, but I was driving as little as possible.  Same song and dance, we'll pay for this we'll pay for that, just send us the receipts.  For a week and a half they had my car, found the power steering column was bad (probably from flying off the road), there was ANOTHER recall that had to be addressed, and nothing about the oil.  Since my car is now out of warranty, the power steering column was going to run me $2,000 but they "good willed" it to me and only charged me a $150 deductible. OK, I say to myself, I'm going to get reimbursed for this anyway. I asked Chrysler if they could cover a car payment for me as well considering all the time the car has spent in the shop and all the work I missed with all the appointments and things I had to do for them to "solve" the issue, and they said "Sure, we'll see what we can do."  And since the oil issue (the main issue I brought it in) was somehow overlooked, I now have to take the car in every 500 miles so they can check the oil and see if they can actually, for real this time, fix the problem.  Chrysler's solution: Drive the car around a lot, even though its obviously unsafe, so we can test the oil consumption.   In my head all I hear is: "Drive the car around so hopefully you crash and kill yourself and since there's no indication in the computer as to why the car shuts off we will chalk it up to driver error when they scrape you off the road and close the case instead of doing the responsible and human thing and give you a car that wont kill you or anyone else on the road."

After all was said and done I had just short of $2,000 tied up in limbo.  When I went to close my case, with all my receipts and visits all well documented I was told that I would not be able to be reimbursed for everything in full.  Their reasoning: Any reimbursements that they offer are out of the goodness of their hearts since my deathtrap is out of warranty.  Mind you, once again, I have been bringing my Jeep into the "certified Jeep dealer" for this problem since there were 7,000 miles on it; so because of their lack of doing anything remotely fucking helpful, it has now become my fault that they couldn't find the problem within the warranty time.  Brilliant, Chrysler.  Oh and not to mention they comically suggested that they would extend my warranty for me in lieu of reimbursement.  Ha fucking ha; there's no way I'm taking adding insult to injury over money I was promised.

I wish I could say I was surprised, but from how things were handled up to this point, it was a less surprising feeling and more like a beyond pissed rage.  Now, I work in service, I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of an annoyed customer, whether its your fault or not.  So I always started my calls with "Listen, I know it's not you, but you're going to hear it.", and off I would go expressing my distaste for the situation, trying to keep it as cordial as possible.  Suppressing an F-bomb isn't easy for me on a normal day, especially when I'm that aggravated, but I did my best out of respect for the poor people on the other end of the line who are bound by the tyranny of Chrysler, as they all repeated the same lines from the script they're undoubtedly reading from.  I kept going from apologizing for my bluntness to telling them that their bosses are huge, money grubbing, assholes who would rather put their customers lives in danger than shell out some money for a car that could potentially kill one or several people, in the Holiday Season no less.

At the writing of this article I'm still forced to drive around Christine (Stephen King reference right there, if you missed it) and I have the Rosary on repeat on my MP3 as well as St. Christopher imagery adorning my car.  I guess the only positives that came out of this situation are I finally named my car and I found God and I pray he/she can guide me on my journey and keep Christine at bay.  All joking aside, Chrysler is literally making me drive a deathtrap just so they can be sure that there's something wrong with it.  I work in heating and air conditioning.  What they're doing is the equivalent of us telling a customer with a gas leak to run the boiler until something blows up, so then we'll know for sure that there is a problem.  That's moronic, irresponsible, and most importantly completely unsafe in every way.

Before I punch a hole in my computer screen I'm gonna wrap this up.  It's an ongoing ordeal and there will be a follow post when I get this resolved.  I will say this though: I am NOT going to be taken advantage of by a bunch of scumbags in business suits.  I will not lay down and eat this shit sandwich no matter how hard they try to brush me under the rug.  And God forbid I get hurt in this Jeep dubbed Christine, I will drive it straight into the office (even if it's on a flatbed in a ball of mangled metal) of the Chrysler people and shove both sets of keys up someones ass...sideways.

Road Warrior

I live in New York, not the city, but just outside of it.  My morning commute at the moment consists of getting on the road at around 6 am and driving approximately 40 miles south of me to my job.  Like anyone's morning commute I imagine everyone gets frustrated by traffic, people that drive like goddamn fucking morons, and anything that lengthens or detours your routine trip to work.  Well, there are three things that I find particularly enraging during my morning travels, two of which are probably mutually aggravating to most of you, but one that only a specific group can subscribe to.  Since today I pretty much had to deal with all three, and I don't think any of them heard the insults being hurled at them from the automobile I was traveling in, I will use my allotted internet space to vent.  Here we go.

HEADACHE 1:

Don' let their smiles fool you, they're only happy because they know they're fucking up your drive...the sadists!

I'm sure this is not a secret to anyone.  There are few things in life that make me want to punch a baby more than stopping and going for what seems like ages at any point in a drive, let alone when you're trying to get somewhere on time.  Hell it even annoyed me when I had to take the bus every day.  And since kids these days are becoming progressively more lazy...or stupid...or whatever, there are more stops per trip.  Allow me to explain.  When I was of bus taking age, the bus would make five stops in my neighborhood: the bottom of the hill, the top my hill, the middle of the street that connects my road to the top of the mountain I live on, and the two cul-de-sacs at either end of the last street, that was it.  Rain or shine, snow or fucking hail, our asses would be huddled in groups of all the neighborhood kids waiting to get picked up.  Now days the bus stops at every single fucking house, and if the kid isn't outside waiting, the driver patiently waits for them to come out.  If I wasn't ready and waiting for my bus, that thing was there and gone and I spent the morning getting yelled at and smacked and dropped off at school whenever I got there.  But that's besides the point, the issue here now is that since bulk pickup is slowly being abolished, every time you get stuck behind a school bus, along with getting a face full of exhaust every time the driver hits the gas, you are guaranteed to be stuck behind it longer than ever... in history (a bit over dramatic?)  

HEADACHE 2:

Don't get me wrong.  I love the rain and fog and snow.  It always has and always will put me in a good mood for some reason.  What I dislike about it is that if there is the slightest bit of moisture in the air, or even the threat of it, the road seems to turn into amateur hour and everyone drives like they're navigating an oil slick, constantly testing their brakes to make sure they won't slide off the road into oblivion.  But that's just one of two extremes.  The other is everyone who owns an SUV thinks that ice and massive puddles are mere cannon fodder for their "tank".  These people are bigger douches than the overly cautious drivers.  Where the overly cautious driver may pose the minor threat of a fender bender when they are driving Miss Daisy at 2 mph and slam the breaks like they just hit the edge of a cliff, the over rambunctious SUV driver will be the one doing 80 in the fast lane, hitting a puddle, and hydroplaning into oncoming traffic, all wheel drive or not.  

In my area, when it rains heavily, the Taconic Parkway tends to flood in the two outside lanes, leaving the middle lane the only safe one to really travel in at a decent speed.  Unless of course you're above that because you have to climb into your drivers seat with a step ladder.  During any one of the said heavy rains we experience during a year, one could drive on the Taconic (if they didn't close it) and see numerous cars flipped over on either side of the parkway.  Now combine these two extremes with rush hour traffic and you will have a clear picture of headache numero dose.

HEADACHE 3:

This is the annoyance only a certain group of people have to endure (that being anyone close enough to the state to be blessed with their company): the Connecticut driver.  Whatever the road condition, time of day, traffic, or anything, the Connecticut driver is the only thing guaranteed to cause you grief on the road.  Driving in a constant state of confusion, this person of Connecticutian origin simply does not know what the mother fuck is going on when they are behind the wheel.  I don't know what the standard for passing your road test is in that state, but driving the same speed as the car next to you in a two lane road for 50 miles must not only be acceptable, but a requirement since this seems to be one of the favorite things to do.  You'll never see one speeding, because they all drive at least five under the speed limit; always.  Properly switching lanes or merging onto the highway next to one seems to turn into a game of keep up.  This is because getting around them must be some sort of personal insult since they refuse to let you do it.  It's really hard to explain the things they do and why they do them; just trying to makes my brain hurt, so hopefully you understand because I need to stop before I have a seizure.  Please heed my warning: if you ever find yourself near one of these license plates on the road, save yourself the aggravation, pull off the road and take the long way to wherever you're going; you'll probably get there faster and have your sanity intact.