Breaking Up With Chevy

Dear Cobalt of mine, Chevy (and you Chevy service department),
I am writing you this letter to let you know that we are most likely never going to make this work. I know I can't blame you for the tire of death or the fact that every time I get into my car and touch the steering wheel it grills my fingers like hot dogs it is so blasted hot but there are a few things that I can blame you for. I find it very inconvenient that every time I set my treble/bass levels to get just the right bump, you automatically set it back to the boring snoozefest levels it was at before whenever I change the station. I also blame you for the annoyance you cause me when you decide that shifting from one gear to the next doesn't need to be a smooth transition but a good hard jolt to make sure I am still awake. Well guess what Chevy, I am awake. The latest issue has just slammed the last nail into the coffin, why is it that you feel like every window in my car, besides the one window I need to roll down, should roll down smoothly? I know you are five years old but cars don't work in dog years or else that Corolla in the most recent Toyota commercial is immortal because they passed it down to their two, TWO, sixteen year old daughters. Even if you were to count in dog years, you would only be 35. 35 years old isn't even middle aged yet so I think you should take that into consideration before you start acting like you are going through car menopause with all your hot flashes and achy joints. I know this isn't all your fault car. I know the service department is the cause of most of these problems seeing that every time I take you in I receive you back in a lesser condition. See this time. But I can't really handle it anymore and will probably be jumping ship soon.

Sorry.

P.S. If you are doing all of this to get back at me for this time when I managed to scarily maneuver you through a fence and a pole, it wasn't my fault, not to mention you didn't even received a single scratch.