…old paperwork stuffed inside the glove compartment.
At first, I was just looking for the owner’s manual. Instead, I found a thick envelope wedged behind it. Inside were repair estimates from three different mechanics — all dated within the last six months.
Each one listed the same problems the shop had just told me about: transmission failure, engine misfires, electrical faults. The estimates were thousands of dollars.
She knew.
And that wasn’t all.
Tucked behind those papers was a recent registration renewal notice — meaning she had signed off that the car was in working condition just weeks before selling it to me.
I felt sick. Not just because of the money — money I didn’t have — but because she’d looked me in the eyes, knowing I was struggling, and still chose to do that.
I went back to the repair shop and asked for a written diagnostic report. Then I took pictures of everything I found in the glove compartment.
That evening, instead of confronting her again, I filed a small claims case.
A week later, she was served.
Suddenly, she wasn’t laughing anymore.
She tried to “work something out” before the court date. She offered to split the repair cost. I refused. I wanted the full amount I paid for the car.
In court, the judge looked over the mechanic reports I found in the glove box. When asked if she was aware of the issues before selling the vehicle, she stumbled through her answer.
The judge didn’t buy it.
I was awarded the purchase price plus court fees.
She had to pay me back in installments.
A month later, she put her house up for sale. Apparently, she’d fallen behind on payments. Funny how fast things turn.
With the money I got back, I found a modest but reliable used car from a dealership — with a warranty.
It’s not fancy. But it starts every morning.
And every time I drive past her old house — now with a “SOLD” sign out front — I’m reminded of something:
Don’t mistake kindness for weakness.
