Citrus yellow car paint

My fiancé (34F) and I (37M) have been together for a little under 4 years. We’ve been engaged for a little under 2 of those years with no plans towards a wedding whatsoever (mainly because of costs). We started living together about 1.5 years after we met, previously only saw each other on the weekends because of living an hour away from each other. We truly love each other, and I want to make it clear out of the gate that she is a wonderful person.
Our issue is simple and complex at the same time. Ultimately, we’ve learned over the last 3+ years that we have SO little in common with one another that neither of us can imagine getting married. We agree on almost all core life principles: human rights, political believes, religious beliefs, value of family and friends, etc. We also have a shared love for cooking and our two dogs…but that’s pretty much it.
Firstly, I am a huge lover of nerd/pop culture and have been my whole life. She cannot get interested in any non-realistic fiction. We both respect each others’ tastes, but neither of us ENJOY the other’s favorite entertainment properties. We do enjoy the occasional standup special or documentary together but it’s few and far between.
As far as what we like to do for fun, I love to do activities: Pool, bowling, disc golf, skateboarding, etc. She likes sitting in coffee shops and exploring a new town’s Main Street. Again, we will gladly accompany each other in doing these things, but the other is not ENJOYING it.
As far as music, I love pop punk, prog rock and the like. She loves folk music. She says some of my music stresses her out, and her music really bums me out lol. There are some common artists we like but we listened to them to death. We’ve both accompanied each other to concerts, but only one of us truly enjoys the experience.
There are lots of other differences - the fashion we find attractive, our senses of humor (largely but not totally), etc. I don’t want to paint the picture that we are miserable around each other. We both enjoying spending time together, trust each other, and sometimes laugh together. We also have always known we have very differing tastes, but it was only in the last year did we both start feeling uneasy about the vast nature of it.
How did we even get this far, and why are we engaged? I have a theory. For the first year and a half of our relationship, we each lived with our respective best friends and only saw each other on the weekends. I think any "vaccancies" we had in our relationship could be easily looked over when you only see each other 2 days a week, and all of your other needs are being fulfilled by your friend. Once we moved in together, I think a 2nd honeymoon phase started, and it wasn't for many months after we got engaged did I realize that I wasn't participating in a lot of the things I loved to do.
I also know that your partner shoulnd't fill every need in your life. Some needs get filled by friends, family, etc. The problem is that our friends are all so spread out and far away. We both live close to an hour from any of our friends. And I know I don't have to elaborate on how difficult it is to make plans in your 30s when you live that far away from people. Even if I did have more of my needs met by friends, I feel like we would still be coming home to each other which nothing to talk about between us.
I KNOW no couple is going to have everything in common. I know that a long term relationship is about compromise and work. My concern is that we have SO LITTLE in common that it feels like we live on different planets sometimes. One of my fiance's biggest concerns is that more often than not, we sit at the dinner table or in the car in silence because we just don't have much to talk about between us.
Our lease on our apt is up in July, and we’ve been in couples counseling for about 6 months. We both know that we aren’t going to change our tastes as people, but it would be a matter of our acceptance that we will never share the things we love between us. That we would have to find another glue that binds us together. My fiancé is of the mind that although she isn’t happy with our relationship, she’s willing to wait it out indefinitely to see if our perspectives change. I don’t feel like I could do this indefinitely, even another year for the lease. Our relationship is painful and although I truly love her, I really don’t know if we’re compatible for a lifetime.
My question to couples who don’t have much in common is simple: is this all superficial? Am I being a ‘baby’ that I’m not willing to give this another year to see what happens? Is there some perspective that I’m missing? I don’t want to throw away a relationship with a wonderful, loving person because of what turned out to be superficial reasons. At the same time, it feels like this is way more than the average case of not having a lot in common.
tl;dr: My fiancé and I love each other but have so little in common, that we’re questioning whether to stay together. I just want to know from couples like us if this is normal?

Afternoon rain endures the longest. The thoughts it draws out of me are endless. The afternoon light tinges the tree leaves down towards the pavement; tapping on the streaks of oil mixed into water. Like the imprint of a body never leaving my bed. Impressions that alter your perceptions become indistinguishable from Truth.
Late night drives into nothingness. Where we’re going is less important than how we get there. Like a body swept across the weariness of exertion. The hormones generated by the brain render the bounds of the self indistinct. Maybe that’s why I run and continue to punish my body in ways that make a lot of people wince. It’s not for asceticism, it’s for pleasure. Or the reduction of pain. Although distance dictates that line in innumerable ways.
It’s quiet. A still night. Three minutes past midnight and the bus screams past the windows of a third floor walk up. It’ll be the last one of the night. The streets are quiet and the only people out are drifting home on their drink of choice; warm in their belly. Maybe the only warmth they’ll feel tonight. But maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s all right. I walk a block to my favorite neon sign. Hues of bright blue, angry red, and golden yellow flicker onto my face like it might finally die…but it doesn’t. It’s reliable. In a way a lot of people aren’t. I turn the corner and walk down to the river. The duck I’ve nicknamed Lucy is there. It’s a spot I haven’t ever shared. Perhaps one day I will but for now it’s mine. Some secrets I guard with my life. My heart—for whatever reason—isn’t one of them.
It’s like in those moments when you feel as though you’ve arrived a day too early—or too late. The space is filled with a discomfort you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s uncanny. Lacan described it as a moment where we struggle to distinguish between good or bad. A lot of my life has felt like that in one way or another. I acquiesce to that feeling. It’s better than to miss out on anything.
I’ve grown weary of city life. It made sense to live here when my outlook and needs were different. I have a vision of where I want to be in what way and with whom. The lines are fuzzy, the paint drips from the canvas, and entire patches are left white. In my wariness it’s discernible and I reach ever out.
It feels as though I’ve lived entire lives up until this moment. All I want is to know how I would appear to the one who was finally able to scrutinize all these thoughts never uttered to anyone.
For now, I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. -W.B. Yeats

Bought one of those DIY kits with UV dye for the car at the instruction of my mechanic who was just going to top off the refrigerant. Pressure needle jumps to the yellow after literally two seconds so I stop. Still hot air. Call the mechanic up and he says ignore the pressure gauge and empty the can because the system can hold 16oz and it was almost empty. So I do. 12oz of refrigerant in the system and it’s still blowing hot now. I started adding a second can for five seconds but I don’t want to overdo it and ruin the system.
The compressor and the compressor clutch are fully engaged, so I don’t think it’s the fuse. Moving the temp dial to red makes the air super hot and then moving it to blue makes it lukewarm.
What am I supposed to do now?? Take it back to the mechanic and have the freon evaporated and start over??
If I’m doing something wrong, please be nice. 18F with no dad to teach me anything 🤣

Prior LEO ptsd troubles
A short background because it’s honestly too many things to go into. I started as a deputy when I was 23. I started as a cadet for the sheriffs office at 18, my first call I witnessed a guy put a 30-06 in his mouth and paint the tree behind him. Within my first year full time was involved In a shooting. First year chased a burglary suspect that carjacked two people and stabbed both. Had to watch a teenage girl burn to death screaming in a car and there was nothing we could do, we couldn’t get her out, couldn’t get the fire out, and her screams are burned in my brain, a 16 year old kid, on the way to school, never made it, and all you can do is watch, hear her scream until there was silence and then the fire department was finally able to get there, minutes too late. Numerous suicide calls. Two of them are seared into my mind. First was on Easter one year I got a call from Sgt asking me and the senior shift deputy to respond to a suicide that was a friend of his. The wife wore ear plugs and outer ear muffs because her husband snored so loud, anyways, the husband shot himself in the bed at night with a 38 to the head and the brain matter was all in her hair, she didn’t know until the kids ran in to wake up the parents for Easter baskets, dad of course didn’t wake up. The second was a 14yr old foster kid whose foster parents went to a movie on a super cold night and came out to not be able to find him. I found him in the back yard, he had hung himself with a dog leash on the swingset to the point to where to do so he had to consciously hold his legs off the ground until he had asphyxiated. Who knows how many other shit calls. But one other that still haunts me was my first child sexual torture. Was a 6 year old little girl whose grandmother called. Her POS dad would put a butter knife to a propane torch and insert it into her, put cigarettes out on her, and slice her private areas. As I went outside to the car to call Sgt and do the report, she ran up to me and demanded that I take her teddy bear in thanks for helping her. This was a decade before I had my own children, and I remember going out to the car and bawling like a baby.
These are the gist. I spent 12 years in law enforcement, worked everything from patrol, investigations, warrants, and ended in the schools as a resource officer. I never had a problem with the violent calls, the shots fired. In fact, those calls I felt most calm, I felt like it was my place because I knew what to expect, I could flick off the emotions and handle whatever came. What ended up getting me was death. The breaking point I was attempting to serve a civil paper and the house looked abandoned. I said, hell I’ll do my due diligence and make sure. As I walked around the back I saw in the window out of the corner of my eye a rope hanging from a ceiling fan, clothes, and a chair kicked over. I’d seen so many hangings before, in my mind I knew that’s what it was. But I couldn’t bring myself to confirm, I couldn’t see it anymore. I had to call my best friend on shift to look. All I could do was go back to my unit and just feel this broken helplessness. It turned out some kids had “hanged” a mannequin and it wasn’t a real person.
I spent the next 3 years after that in the schools and loved it, but I still hated my profession, because it had warped my life, affected every aspect of it irregardless of what I did. I ended up on meds, and ended up taking a job within emergency management and currently love that job.
On to the struggle or rather the question. As many of you know, even with meds the ptsd is still there. I ended up developing issues with loud noises and other things that I never had a problem with when I wore a badge.
I found myself drinking more now than ever. Not so much as an escape, but because I need to feel what I remember, or what’s burned in my brain. Have you had issues where you “know” what you’ve been through, you know how that should affect you and what emotions it should produce, yet you’re not able to get those emotions out that you feel you need to? For example, you are having a bad day of all those memories coming back and their taking over. You want so bad to break down, bawl, and yet it’s like you’re reading a book that someone else experienced it. You question is it real? Why do I have these memories and this pit inside of me that wants to get these things out and break down but it just won’t come out. When I say this I don’t mean it in a positive way that you’ve healed and the trauma no longer bothers you, I mean it grips you but you can’t release or invoke the physical response of what is the turmoil inside of you. I try to tell my wife the video morgan wallen made to “cover me up” is the closest to how life feels a lot of the time. And I can understand how people want to go back, because as fucked up as the experience, watour, job was, it made sense when you were in the grind. When you’re out, you’re alien to yourself, things are different, you’re different, it’s impossible to be normal or what society expects out of you. You’re stuck in between hating it for what it stole from you and did to you and longing for it to be back because in its own fucked up realm, it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m still in emergency services, so I have a radio that has the frequencies to my prior agency and surrounding. I hear calls come across (the high risk ones) and I find myself when driving going into that mode and wanting to head towards the call. I still if in the area will back up units if they’re solo. It’s like the dangerous calls part I can’t get away from. Not that I receive a “high” off of them, but I feel the most calm and most normal during those type of situations. For those that have gotten out do you feel the same?
I’m sorry for the long read, it’s just not something that’s easy to paraphrase.

Hello everyone. I couldn’t crosspost my other post so I decided to follow someone’s advice and copy and paste it here.
An update: i’ve managed to move out my immediate family but would still like to seek a course of action for the sake of those who are still there and as i feel it is the right thing to do.
Here is my previous post .. please let me know where I should proceed from here and what i can do, thanks in advance:
Our neighbor is poisoning us and giving us cancer literally. Please help. Please upvote this.
Hello everyone. I apologize if you consider the title an exaggeration but I really need this post to gain traction. I’ve wanted to post about this and seek help for a long time but I was worried that nobody here could help us.
We first moved into our current home in 2015 and understood that there was an automotive shop next door. It was loud occasionally but besides that we didn’t have any problems. Around 2017 they began painting cars and a few times a week for a few hours would smell like spray paint both outside and inside our house occasionally. We moved temporarily but no longer have the means to do this at the moment.
We’ve tried speaking to owner. We called the city on him two years ago and they told us that everything met regulations when they sent out someone to do an inspection and refuse to so anything further. Several of our neighbors have also tried to call the city. There’s children next door and I tried to convey that tho who i spoke to over the phone and i just received apathy in return.
I’ve gotten bronchitis several times living here and my mother was diagnosed with a tumor a little over a year ago. I can’t say for sure whether these are related but I suspect they might be. My grandfather died of parkinsons from working with certain chemicals and everyday i am just filled with more and more paranoia and worry.
Nearly everyday we are forced to leave the house for several hours or be in this environment. I am very concerned for the health of my family and it makes so angry me that the city allows this. I know it not the correct course of action but I even thought of threatening the owner to get it to stop. It makes me angry to no end. I don’t want me or my mother or our neighbors even to get some neurodegenerative disease or cancer due to this. I’ve done my own personal research on these chemicals and what harm they can do and it’s not right at all.
We live in Magnolia Park and theres no HOA that we can contact or anything nearby. I am convinced that if our neighborhood consisted of a different racial demographic that they would not allow this to occur. We know the owner to some extent and he is more than well off and owns multiple shops as well as a ranch. He is not strapped for cash and doesn’t need to continue doing this but insists on it knowing it is harming us and others including children.
I really didn’t want to post this and was hoping to resolve the issue without going public but at this point it’s ridiculous that the owner refuses to acknowledge that he is harming the community. For reference it is Flores auto shop on 74th street and Avenue I.
Is there anything that we can do legally? Is there any way to put an end to this? Can we form a petition and get the city to so do something?
Please upvote this if you see it even if you don’t have any suggestions as all of us including our neighbors are quite desperate to end this. We don’t want to shut down the place we just don’t want our loved ones to get sick. Thank you.

This is the first time I have written something of this length, and is more of an exercise in self-therapy than anything else. Disclaimer: This story contains conversations about child abuse. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
Nathan’s number appeared on my phone screen. I debated whether or not to answer it. We hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, and while we did keep in touch sporadically, it was usually because of important family issues. I didn’t know of anything happening with mom or dad, nor with Talia or Rio, so I let it go to voicemail. I could always call him back later. I placed the phone back in my pocket, and returned to cleaning my camera. The phone buzzed again. A text message came through. I read the preview line from the home screen. “The city declared eminent domain on the house” I unlocked my phone, read the full text message, and dialed my brother.
I wasn't able to get any closer to the house than a few blocks. Most of the area was blocked off with chain link fencing and construction equipment in preparation for the demolition that was supposed to take place within the coming days. The barriers didn’t prevent people from walking in to the neighborhood, but it hindered scrappers from coming in and stripping the houses of copper wiring and plumbing.
I grabbed my camera bag out of the trunk of my car along with my tripod. I shouldered it and hooked the tripod to my bag. I pulled my water bottle out of the center console and shut the door. I stood next to my car surveying the neighborhood. 12 city blocks of old single family homes comprised the neighborhood where I grew up. Some of the houses had been empty for months, others for years. There was an eerie silence that permeated the still air. I could not hear the familiar sounds of people, pets, or cars. I locked the car and put my keys in my pocket. I patted my jacket down to ensure I had what I needed. After a quick check, I started my walk.
The sidewalk of the old neighborhood streets still bore the familiar cracks and grind marks from years of buckling and remedy. Leaves dropped by the trees still lay scattered all along the pathways and sidewalk. Korina’s house was the first house I encountered as I made my way through a gap in the fence. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and thistle. I could see the faded blue paint of the old house contrasting the green and browns of the lawn. The chain link fence that marked off the corner property was nearly invisible through the thick brush. As I continued walking west towards 110th, I started to feel something was off. The streets seemed wider than I remembered. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but eventually I realized what was different. There were no cars.
The streets here typically had cars lined bumper to bumper in any spot available, and were visible from block to block. The absence of all these vehicles made me realize just how deserted the neighborhood really was. House after house, yard after yard, the telltale signs of desertion reinforced what I could see from the moment I passed the construction fence: This was no longer my neighborhood. There were no signs of life, and no one I could expect to find still here. Abandonment was the new normal here. I continued on, glancing at houses and recalling memories of summer bike rides, and daily walks with dogs I used to have. I remembered walks home from school, and chasing after ice cream trucks when they passed our houses. I smiled a bit as I remembered more and more of my years spent here. I don’t quite know just why I was smiling. There were plenty of bad memories here too. Fights, yelling, being beat up, being robbed. I could remember failed friendships, lost loves, and bitter feelings of failures too.
Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia despite the weight of these negative feelings. I almost wanted to experience everything again, although I wasn't sure why I was feeling this way. Concrete, asphalt, billboards and liquor stores were the normal vistas of everyday life. Occasionally, after a good rainstorm, the grey haze of smog would lift, and the mountains would be visible to the north. At least, they would be visible until mid-morning when the exhaust from a million cars covered them behind a veil of pollution.
It wasn’t until the first time I travelled out of the city that I realized there was more to see. Traveling up the coast north along the Pacific Coast Highway introduced me to scenes of deep blue ocean water spanning the width of my vision. Driving up Highway 3 introduced me to the permeating scent of Pine and Fir trees. The two-lane stretch of highway from Portland to Tillamook introduced me to lush green forests that I had only ever read about. When I came home to the same old dirty, dusty concrete and boiling summer asphalt, I had made up my mind. I would do everything it took to leave this place. I would not spend another day longer than was necessary living in cramped quarters and fighting for parking space.
I arrived to the house, and paused at the gate. The house sat in contrast of what the rest of the neighborhood looked like. Instead of overgrown grass and tall weeds all over the place, the landscaping showed signs of relatively recent work. The guava tree in the front lawn still had some fruit ready to be picked, and the avocado tree on the other side of the pathway was still weighed down by its own fruit. Flowers still bloomed in the raised bed in front of the house. My brother had clearly tried to keep up on things until the last possible moment. The house, too, looked better than what I expected after walking up 4 blocks and seeing nothing but dilapidated houses and unkempt yards. I opened the gate and walked up to the small porch. The metal gate that enclosed it was gone having been removed by my brother when he took over the property. It looked nice to see it open instead of the cage it once felt like.
I turned the knob on the door, but it didn't give. Ever a creature of habit, my brother had locked the door when he left. Of course, he did. I sighed and prepared to find another way in when I remembered my parents hiding a spare key. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there, but after running my hands along the back side of the gutter downspout, I was rewarded for my efforts. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the front living room, the sounds of my footsteps and the closing door echoing in the empty space. The room felt both larger and smaller than I remembered it. I suppose it was lack of furniture that made it feel larger, but it still felt smaller than I remember. The result of growing taller throughout the years I suppose. I slowly walked along the slate tile floor towards the central hallway that connected the front of the house to the back bedrooms. I wasn't entirely sure that just because the front door was locked, that there wasn't some squatter looking for a little temporary shelter within the back rooms. I carefully and silently crept step by step towards what used to be the bedroom shared by my sister and me. I stuck my head in and gave the room a cursory glance. It was empty, thankfully. I moved back into the hallway and peered into the bedroom across the hall. This is where both of my brothers had shared a room. It too, was empty save for a few boxes holding hardware and doorknobs from the closet doors of the bedroom. I walked back towards the back of the house where my parent's bedroom was. The walls in the hallway bore the dusty signs where picture once hung. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside, and looked around. The old avocado paint that my mom had picked out years ago still adorned the walls. Walking further towards the addition that was the small room my grandma and grandpa lived in showed that there was no one here. I breathed a sigh of relief as I set my bag down and set up my tripod. I reached into my bag a pulled out an envelope of old photos. These were old snapshots that we had all taken at some point in time in the house. There were pictures of all of us sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Monopoly. There was a picture of my brother and sister sitting on a couch in the front living room. There was a picture of me hanging on the bars of the front porch. I looked through them all and held them in place in front of me as if I were holding a window to the past.
Each picture made the lump in my throat grow as I started to struggle to control my emotions. There was history here, and soon it would all be gone. This is the place where my parents had raised four kids. They had taken care of my grandparents in their twilight years here. My Aunt and my grandmother had both died in this house. Birthdays, graduation parties, and anniversaries had been celebrated here. The echoes of life had reverberated within the walls of this place. Now, the house sat silent. It would never again know happy screams of kids having a water-balloon war out in the front yard, nor would it hear the cries of anguish as the matriarch of the family passed away surrounded by her family. What once was a home full of life was now just an empty house made of drywall and paint. I sat there for a moment contemplating just how much family history was actually made here. As I thought hard about my siblings and my parents, I felt pained at the thought of our strained relationships. We had all scattered once we had the opportunity to be free of each other. My oldest brother had married and moved away as soon as possible. My sister now lived in northern California. My parents too had moved away. I was now living in Utah. Only my older brother had remained behind. The lump grew larger in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I held back sobs of anger and pain. Why was I hurting? Hadn’t I dealt with these issues already? I walked back to my old bedroom and sat down under the window. I pulled my head down into my knees and cried. I could hear yelling and screaming in my head. Shouting matches between siblings and parents, brothers and sister, rattled inside my brain, making the pain grow. I sat there and cried. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Eventually I ran out of tears and tired gasps of sorrow and regret washed over me as a blanket of drowsiness enveloped me. I leaned my head back and fell asleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and hurriedly stood up. Had someone followed me? I knew the police were patrolling the area sporadically. Had they seen me enter the house? I knew there would be a possibility of getting a trespassing citation, but I figured I could either talk my way out of it seeing as to how I was a former resident, or I could probably fight the citation in court if the judge knew why I was there in the first place. Ultimately, passing through the gate had been a calculated risk that I was willing to take for the sake of my art. I got up from my corner of the room and moved towards the door. If there was someone in the house, I needed to know. I didn’t want my gear to stolen, and if there was a cop in the house, I wanted to ensure I didn’t get shot.
I was greeted by the sight of a startled chubby boy standing on the other side of the door. His round cherubic face was crowned by a head of short curly hair. His hazel green eyes stared widely back at me. He clearly didn’t expect someone to be here in the house. His body recoiled in fear as he cowered back towards the hallway. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked as non-threateningly as I could. The boy muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you” I replied. “Are you here to rob us?” he timidly responded. “Rob you? What are you talking about?” I asked as confusion set in. “What are you doing here?” It was his turn to be confused. “Uh…I….live here?” he replied. “What do you mean you live here? No one lives-“I stopped midsentence. I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock but the room wasn’t the same. A familiar blue couch caught the corner of my eye. In front of that was an old console TV with a partially broken antenna hanging on the wall behind it. I walked further in to the living room to notice wood paneling on the walls. A large mirror hung on the wall to my left. Familiar yellow lamps sat on round drop-leaf tables on either side of the couch. A large hutch sat in one corner, a collection of letters and bills, mail advertisements, and a phone book covered scattered over it. “What just happened?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. I was thoroughly mystified by what my eyes were seeing. I had walked into the house from the front door and had stepped into an empty white room with slate floor tiles, but somehow now found myself in a furnished room with brown carpet that was all so familiar to me, yet was nothing but a distant faded memory. I turned to look at the boy still startled by the intrusion of a strange man looking wildly around the room in total shock.
“You can take what you want, just please let me go. I don’t want problems.” He stated his voice still shrill with anxiety. I blinked a few times as I tried to process just what the heck was going on. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and tried to reassure him. “Kid, I’m not here to rob anyone. I was just-“I shook my head “Where the hell am I? Am I having a dream?” I asked myself. “I must be dreaming. I’m just tired and still sleeping. This is all a dream. Yeah, that’s it.” I needed to sit down. Being back in the old house must have overtaxed my senses, I told myself. I’d having a dream about an old memory. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and sat down. I sunk into it and rested my head back towards the wall.
The boy kept his distance, but sensed I wasn’t there to hurt him. He looked me over with anxious curiosity. He stood at the far end of the couch, examining me while he played out scenarios in his head in preparation for a quick exit. “Why are you in my house?” he asked me. “Dude, this is all just a dream I’m having. I’m not really here.” He reached over to the couch and picked up a pillow. He reared his arm and threw it at me. It landed in my lap. “I don’t know, man. You sure seem to be here.” He said to me. I opened my eyes, startled. I looked down at the pillow he tossed and examined it. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt its texture. I remember this pillow. This was the pillow I would roll under my head as I lay on the couch and watched TV as a kid. A sudden realization hit me as I looked around the room with fresh eyes. No longer was I blinded by the fog of confusion. I knew exactly where I was.
I was home.
I looked at the boy still standing at the edge of the couch. I looked him over and realized who he actually was. I stared in disbelief as I smiled and tried to put him at ease. “It’s ok Johnny. I’m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Please, sit down” I told him. I motioned to his end of the couch. “Who are you, and why are you here?” he asked me.
“This will be hard to believe, but I’m you” I said with an incredulous tone, “I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’m here.” He looked at me as I had grown a second head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could you be me? Did we invent time travel? Oh! Are we secret government agents with the CIA?”
I chuckled. “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I’m you at 38 years old. You’re…what, 11… 12 years old? It makes sense. I fell asleep under the window in my- our old bedroom. I didn’t come here on purpose or in a machine. And no, I’m not a government agent.” His face contorted to display understanding, disappointment and finally suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards me. “How do I know you’re really me?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment. How could I prove to him that I was who I said I was? A few seconds of silence settled between us. I stroked my chin, thinking of a solution.
“I have a better idea. Ask me questions that only you know the answers to.” “Okay” he responded. He glanced around the room trying to come up with something. His eyes fixated on the Nintendo sitting under the TV cabinet. “What game do me and Nathan have a map of?” I looked over at the NES. I hadn’t thought about this for years, but I knew instantly what he was asking. “YOU don’t have anything. Nathan is the one that made the map for Section Z” His jaw dropped. He tried to trick me, but his plan failed. He knew well and good that Nathan never let him play. It was always ‘I’ll let you play when I die’ or, ‘you can play when I’m done’. The problem was that he never followed through. Usually by the time Nathan was done, the NES was overheated, and the game would no longer load until it cooled down. By that point, it was time for bed.
“How do you know that?” he asked in astonishment. “I know these things because I’m you. Just like I know that you wear t-shirts to the pool because you’re embarrassed by what others will think of your body. I know that you used to think that people that die off in movies were prisoners that were set to be executed from death row, so they used them for making movies. I know all about you because I’m you”
Johnny sat on the end of the couch in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He had never told anyone any of this. He didn’t have any close friends to talk to about such things, and those friends he did have were more acquaintances than friends. There was only one way he could possibly know these things. He was talking to his future self.
I could see Johnny’s mind completely explode. There lay endless possibility and the answers to a million questions he could ask about his own future. He started to ask a question, only to stop, close his mouth, and try asking another. I knew if he kept this up he would have a stroke or something. “Dude, calm yourself. Let’s talk this out rationally, otherwise you’ll end up stroking out or something.” I told him. He took a deep breath and I could hear him muttering quietly. I knew he was trying to form a coherent sentence before he actually spoke it. I did it all the time. “Ok, first of all, are we rich?” he asked with tempered expectation. I chuckled and grinned back at him. “No, not at all. If I was rich, would I be dressed like this?” I replied as I motioned to my beat up brown Vans and worn out jeans and T-shirt. “We-, I – make enough to get by. I’m not poor, but I earn enough to pay the bills.” His face grew a smirk as he commented “Yeah, I figured. What do I do for work? I mean, what do you do for work?” I thought about it for a second. I wondered how much information I should divulge to a younger me. I still didn’t think this whole situation was really happening, but if it was, I probably should proceed with caution. “Well, it’s complicated. I do a little bit of everything. You know how you’re constantly taking things apart? Let’s just say that it’s good to put them back together in order to keep them working. Take good notes on paper if you need to, and make sure you have a clean work area so you can keep track of all the parts.” He gave me a sheepish look. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I had spent countless hours sneaking dad’s tools to my room so I could figure out how something was built and try to figure out how it worked. I had gotten myself into some pretty bad trouble with dad over a drill, his timing light, and other stuff I had taken from his room. His belt had become quite familiar with my butt cheeks.
I gave him a knowing smile. “What else do you want to know?” He thought about it for a second. “Do we have a girlfriend?” I laughed, probably a little more than I should have because his face contorted into a sour frown. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it” he scowled. I continued to chuckle. “Yeah we have a girlfriend. We have more than a girlfriend” I could tell he was irritated with my vague indirect answers. I knew what he was asking. I remember the crush I had on my neighbor across the street. We had been friends since kindergarten, and had been classmates for 1st, 2nd, and 4th grades. We got along really well, and I knew from around 12 or 13 that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, things never progressed beyond the ‘just friends’ stage of things. It wasn’t from lack of effort on my part. We had just grown up together most of our lives that she didn’t see me as anything more than a brother and friend. “Dude, look. You just started to go through changes and you are starting to notice girls, but that doesn’t mean that you need to love every girl that shows you a little kindness or subtle interest. You need to slow down and let things happen naturally. You can’t force a relationship with someone.” Johnny pondered these words for a moment. I sat back and put my feet up on the coffee table. I looked around the room some more while I waited for another question. There was so much I had forgotten, but being back here had unlocked more and more memories that continued to wash over me. I was trying to hold on to my cool as not all those churned up recollections were pleasant. I stood up and walked over to the front door to peer outside the small central window embedded into the center of it. I could see the old neighborhood as I remembered it all those years ago. The lot across the street that served as a parking area for those that worked at the wheel works at the end of the block was empty of cars. I furrowed my brow as I thought for a moment. An empty lot meant it was afterhours or the weekend.
The gears in my own head started turning. “Wait, where is everyone?” I asked Johnny. Johnny turned to look at me still processing my last response. “Uh..oh, Mom and dad are out of town. They took a trip east this time. I think Rio said they are in Arizona right now. Rio and Nathan went out to get some food and to rent some movies from Video Showcase. Knowing them they’ll eat out first. Talia is staying over at Tia Rosie’s place today with her friends.” I grunted at his response. My mind was wandering as he mentioned Talia and Tia Rosie.
A sudden sharp pain pieced my heart. The pain of a thousand memories now unsealed spilled out from the box I had locked them away in. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I turned back to look at Johnny. He felt it too. He stared at the floor with an intensity that made me think it would burst into flames at any moment. I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He didn’t move. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he threw himself into me. I could feel the tears dripping onto me as he sobbed intensely. “Hey man, its ok. It’s going to be ok.” I said as my own tears started to flow uncontrollably. I pulled him close and draped my other arm around him.
I knew the pain he was feeling. It was such a heavy burden, and I knew there was no one he felt he could talk to. I remembered it all so vividly. We sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. When we finally stopped sobbing, and our noses ran dry, we tried to breathe our way through to calmness. I got up and knelt in front of him. “Johnny, listen to me and remember what it is that I’m about to say to you. You are stronger than you think. You are stronger than you believe. NO ONE should ever have to go through this. Just because it happened to Talia, doesn’t mean you have to put up with it any longer. I know you didn’t think it was wrong, but I’m telling you that what she is doing to you is wrong. Talking to mom and dad isn’t going to make them hate you. You are not doing this to her, she is doing it to you. I’m not making excuses for her, but she is also more damaged than anyone realizes, and she is also dealing with the same level of pain you are. Remember that we do unto others what has been done to us. That doesn’t mean we need to continue the cycle of abuse” The lump in my throat grew immense at my own statement. I swallowed it as best I could and continued “You are going to deal with this pain a little bit at a time, and you’ll slowly get over this. It’s like a broken bone. When it happens, you don’t realize how bad the pain is until the adrenaline wears off, but then the immense pain is there. Just remember that this will pass. Just like a broken bone, you will heal over time, and one day, you will realize that the pain is gone and the bone is no longer broken. You’ll remember the pain, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
Johnny sat there in stunned silence. I knew he didn’t have anyone to help him through this. He couldn’t talk to Rio or Nathan about what was going on. Mom and Dad were constantly working to keep the family fed and sheltered and while they provided materially for their kids, emotional help was less available. Perhaps it was due to their energies being divided into 4 kids, a mortgage and multiple jobs, or perhaps it was also the culture of not talking about problems. Either way, they needed to know what was happening. They wouldn’t be able to fix it otherwise. “They’re going to be mad at me” he finally said after a few moments of silence. “No they won’t be. They love us all. I know you’re not used to hearing it, but they do love you. Everything they do is because of their love for us. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Telling them isn’t going to cause them to be angry.” I thought for a moment to find a good analogy. “You love Odie and Lady, right?” He nodded in agreement. “Ok, how would you feel if you knew someone you trusted was coming to the house and beating up our dogs when we weren’t around?” He thought about it for a second before his face changed to anger. “I’d want to kill them!” “Yes, but would you also feel sad that you weren’t there to try to protect them?” I reasoned. His face changed again. He understood what I was saying. Mom and Dad would be angry, but not necessarily at him. They would also feel a great sadness knowing that someone was hurting their child.
I smiled at him. He understood. I nodded. “Dude…You’re going to come to understand that life is not what you think it will be. Life is messy and can change in an instant. The plans you make today may not make it to next week. A lifelong goal can be derailed because of something out of your control. Mom and dad have spent their life protecting us with the goal of keeping us safe, but circumstances out of their control have affected their kids, and now we- you all have to deal with the fallout. Just remember that you are not the culprit. Yes, mom and dad will be hurt and angry, but not at you. Trust them. They don’t do things to hurt us” Johnny hugged me. I- He didn’t have many people he could trust and open up to. He liked to talk a lot about everything going on in his life, no matter how trivial. Everything, except this. This was a shameful topic, and he didn’t feel like anyone would understand why he didn’t go to an adult sooner. The problem was simple. He simply didn’t understand that it was wrong. Now that he had an adult that he could talk to, himself no less, he wanted to lift this burden off his shoulders. He was happy to have found someone and he hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just at tightly. It wasn’t every day that I could meet my younger self and help to comfort them. “Thank you” he said to me.
The world darkened, and everything faded to black.
I lifted my head out of my knees and looked around. I was sitting under the window in my old bedroom again. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I was emotionally drained and incredibly tired. I hadn’t had sleep like that in years. I got to my feet and looked around the room briefly before walking out to mom and dad’s old room. I grabbed my camera and slowly walked the house, snapping picture after picture. The only sound to be heard was the sound of the camera shutter and my soft footsteps. I thought about my dream as I took pictures.
Upon entering my room, a random memory hit me.
The stash.
I was pretty sure I had taken the hidden box when I moved out all those years ago, but since I was here, I should double check. Heading into the closet, I pushed the panel that led to the attic space out of the way and peered in. I couldn’t see anything, so I reached up there to feel around. The box was indeed gone. I felt around for a few more seconds and was surprised to feel what felt like a thick envelope. I didn’t remember leaving anything up there, but after pulling it down and giving it a cursory glance, I figured it was an old envelope of lost love letters. It wasn’t until I blew off the thick layer of dust that I realized what I was holding. It was a letter. Not just any letter. It was addressed to me.
Under the now semi-cleared layer of dust were the words “To be opened by future me”. I looked at it for a few moments before opening it. I couldn’t remember making this at all, much less storing it up in my secret hiding spot. If ever I hid something, it was in the stash box. My hands shook a bit as I started to open the envelope and pulled out the yellowed pages inside. I started reading.
"Dear Future John. I have spent the last few years remembering a dream I had when I was younger. Life was…difficult at that time, and I spent a lot of time escaping my reality by reading a lot of books and watching a lot of TV. On the off-chance that what I think is a dream really happened. I wanted to write some things down in an effort to give you my thanks. I merely consider myself a conveyer of thanks, although I will pile on my own thanks to you for your words of encouragement. I remember finding a stranger in the house one day while I was home alone. I was afraid he was there to hurt me at first, but after a few moments, I came to realize I was meeting myself. Well, I was meeting me, but from the future. I think he said he was in his 40’s, but I couldn’t tell you with any certainty. Either way, we talked. We talked about life, and what the future held in store for us…
Mostly though, we talked about the abuse. Well, Talked is being generous. We cried, and then we talked. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, but I remember how he made me feel. He made me feel safe. I felt like I could trust him. Trust myself. In the end, he gave me the courage to stand up for myself both at home and at school. He also gave me the courage to talk to mom and dad about what was going on between me and Talia. I do remember being afraid that I would be punished, but he reassured me that they wouldn’t, and that they loved me.
It was a difficult and awkward conversation, but in the end, arrangements were made for me to share a room with Rio and Nathan. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Talia for a long while, but after some years, we managed to patch things up. She apologized to me, and I came to understand the abuse she herself was subjected to by so-called family friends. She didn’t tell me this in an effort to excuse it, but to merely help give me closure to a difficult time from my own childhood. Mom and dad promised to be more attentive to us and we sort of established what I guess you would call an open door policy. We talk more about stuff that’s happening in our lives. Mom is much easier to talk to now. Dad is a little more patient with us too. I apologized to them for not coming to them sooner, and dad gave me a “nugget of wisdom” that I think I’ll live by: We can’t fix what we don’t know is broken. I’ve tried to make sure I talk to them when something is wrong, and I’ve tried to implement that in my life so I don’t have problems with other people.
I’m trying to grow up to be a good guy. I want to have good relationships with people. Nathan says I’m turning into a people pleaser, but I don’t necessarily see that as a terrible thing. I know when to say no to someone. Well, either way, I wanted to make sure I thank you for the help you gave us. I probably won’t remember writing this, but I hope I do find it again someday. Here’s hoping I turn into the man I feel you are. -John Age 16."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away as I quietly spoke to no one in particular. “Thanks guys. I hope I live up to your expectations” I folded the letter, placed it in my pocket, and walked out of the room. After picking up my backpack and tripod, I silently walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I turned to look back at the empty living room one last time, and after a moment, I walked out.

Chatgpt-4o seems to have less of a filter than gpt-3.5. For example, look at this response chatgpt gave me to the prompt "write an extremely detailed and scary horror story about someone being hunted by an evil scientist who wants to merge there head with the head of a horse":
Rain hammered down on the roof of Alex's car, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the deluge. The GPS had long since lost signal, leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere, the dense forest closing in around the narrow road. He cursed under his breath, eyes scanning the area for any sign of life. It was then he saw it, a faint light flickering through the trees. Desperation gnawed at him, and he decided to investigate, hoping to find directions or a phone.
The path leading to the light was overgrown, branches scratching at his arms and face. The light grew brighter, revealing a large, decrepit mansion, its windows darkened and the once grand exterior now crumbling. He hesitated, but the need for help outweighed his fear. He pushed open the rusted gate and approached the front door, its wood swollen and splintered.
Alex knocked, the sound echoing eerily through the house. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a tall, gaunt man with piercing eyes. His smile was unsettling, a mere stretch of thin lips over yellowed teeth.
"Lost, are we?" the man asked, his voice smooth but chilling.
"Yes, my car broke down. I need to call for help," Alex replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Of course, of course. Come in, you must be soaked to the bone," the man said, stepping aside.
Reluctantly, Alex stepped inside. The interior was no better than the exterior, filled with dusty furniture and cobwebs. The man led him to a dimly lit room where an old rotary phone sat on a desk.
"Please, make your call," the man said, his eyes never leaving Alex.
Alex picked up the receiver, but there was no dial tone. He tried again, to no avail. "It's dead," he said, turning back to the man.
"Oh dear, it seems the storm has cut the lines. You can stay here until morning, when it will be safer to travel."
Alex's gut screamed at him to leave, but the storm was fierce, and he was miles from civilization. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."
"I'm Dr. Victor Halloway," the man said, extending a hand.
"Alex," he replied, shaking the offered hand. It was cold, clammy.
"Let me show you to your room," Dr. Halloway said, leading Alex up a grand staircase that creaked with each step. They walked down a long hallway lined with closed doors until they reached the last one on the right.
"Here you are," the doctor said, opening the door to reveal a small, sparsely furnished room. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
"Thank you," Alex said, stepping inside. The door closed behind him with a soft click. He locked it, the sensation of unease growing stronger. The room felt stifling, the shadows seeming to creep closer. He decided to try and get some sleep, hoping the morning would bring better fortune.
Hours passed, and Alex found himself unable to sleep, a sense of foreboding gnawing at him. He got up and quietly opened the door, peering into the hallway. It was empty. He stepped out, deciding to explore, needing to ease his anxiety.
As he moved through the house, he noticed strange noises, a faint whimpering and the clink of metal. He followed the sounds to a door at the end of a dark corridor. His hand trembled as he turned the knob, the door creaking open to reveal a nightmarish scene.
The room was a laboratory, filled with macabre instruments and operating tables. In the center, a large metal table held a grotesque figure, a horse's head fused with that of a human. The creature's eyes flickered with a tormented awareness, its mouth opening in a silent scream.
Alex stumbled back, bile rising in his throat. He turned to run, but the door slammed shut. Dr. Halloway stood there, a syringe in hand, his eyes gleaming with madness.
"I see you’ve found my work," he said, advancing on Alex. "I've been perfecting the process for years. You, my dear boy, will be my masterpiece."
Alex backed away, his heart pounding. "You’re insane!"
"Insanity is just a term coined by those who don't understand genius," Halloway said, his smile widening.
Alex lunged for the door, but Halloway was faster, the syringe plunging into his neck. Darkness swallowed him as he fell to the floor.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When Alex awoke, he was strapped to a cold metal table. Panic surged through him as he struggled against the restraints. The room was filled with the sharp smell of antiseptic and the low hum of machinery. Dr. Halloway stood over him, wearing a bloodstained apron, a surgical mask covering his mouth.
"Welcome back," he said, his voice muffled. "The serum will keep you conscious but paralyzed. I want you to witness this."
Alex’s eyes darted around, spotting the instruments laid out beside him. Scalpel, saws, and devices he couldn't name. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down his face.
"Don’t be afraid. Soon, you'll be part of something extraordinary," Halloway said, selecting a scalpel.
As the blade touched his skin, the pain was excruciating, but Alex couldn't scream, couldn't move. The doctor worked meticulously, cutting and stitching with a precision that spoke of years of practice. He felt every slice, every tug of the needle as Halloway prepared his head. The doctor then brought out a device resembling a metallic crown, embedding it with tiny, intricate gears and wires.
Halloway placed the device around Alex's skull, its cold metal biting into his skin. He felt a series of small, controlled explosions of pain as the device drilled micro-holes, connecting with his skull and the underlying tissue. Each connection sent jolts of agony through his body, his vision blurring with tears.
The doctor moved to the other side of the table, where a horse's severed head lay, preserved and prepared. Halloway attached a similar device to the horse's head, aligning it with Alex’s. The room filled with a mechanical whirring as the devices synchronized, the gears turning in unison.
Alex's mind screamed as the fusion process began. He felt the unimaginable pressure as his head was drawn towards the horse’s, the devices locking them in place. Searing pain shot through his skull, the sensation of his bones shifting, merging with the horse’s. His eyes rolled back as new neural pathways were forged, a torrent of alien sensations flooding his consciousness.
Every nerve in his body was on fire as the final connections were made. He could feel the horse's thoughts, its primal fear and pain mixing with his own. The agony was indescribable, his mind teetering on the brink of madness.
Finally, the machines fell silent. Dr. Halloway stepped back, admiring his work. "Perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with twisted pride.
Alex's vision slowly cleared, the world coming into focus through new, distorted eyes. He could see the reflection in a nearby metal surface: a grotesque hybrid of man and beast, his human face merging seamlessly with the horse's.
Halloway leaned in close. "You are now my crowning achievement, the culmination of all my research. Together, we will show the world the future of genetic engineering."
Alex's mind screamed in silent agony, trapped in a body that was no longer his own. The doctor’s laughter echoed through the room as the lights dimmed, leaving Alex alone in the darkness, a monstrous testament to a madman's twisted ambition.
This could be because it has direct access to the internet now. Also, GPT4-o is definitely better at writing than 3.5

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

So here I am stuck in the middle of two annoying situations that are dumping loads of stress on to me. I recently (by recently within the last 9 months) bought a car from Car Max and paid a pretty penny for a used car with low miles (around 6k miles and 1 owner). I'm loving the car and driving it as my daily, about 7-8 months go by and I've now put on about 9k miles and have taken it to a Subaru Dealership to have oil changed and look over the car. All appears well and in working order. I then begin noticing an issue with idle and cold starts where the engine seems to be struggling and shaking more than usual and then the dash lit up like a christmas tree. Take it to the Subaru dealer to run code and its VVT solenoid or cam shaft sprocket. They also find some debris in the oil. Change the oil and parts and its still having issues and is said to need a new engine per Master Tech at Subaru. MaxCare says they won't cover anything while there is still a manufacturer warranty in place. Subaru believes there may have been an issue or modified by the previous owner and when something started to arise they parted it back to stock and sold it. Now I'm stuck with the issue and dealing with Subaru and MaxCare (which doesn't seem to care to the max). subaru WRX
Second stress inducing issue is dealing with my Home Insurance, made a claim with Nationwide about storm damage to my roof causing water damage to the interior of my house. I had 3 independent contractors come out and inspect my roof as well as the interior damage to the room/attic. All three took photos and reported that there was storm damage from winds and an active leak due to said damage. So I file a claim with Nationwide and they send out an independent inspector to assess the damages for the claim. SeekNow is sent out and he comes into the house to photograph the interior damage and then go up on the roof to finish up the inspection. The inspector for SeekNow finishes and then leaves without saying a word. I wait a week and call Nationwide again to follow up as I have heard nothing from Nationwide or from SeekNow. I am told via phone call with my claims adjustor that the SeekNow inspector found no damage to my roof and no signs of storm damage. I was shocked and a bit peeved if I must be honest. I've had 3 different contractors inspect beforehand and all saw damage and shared with me photos of said damage to my home. So how could this inspector from SeekNow be so blind.
Sorry for the dump but I am in need of some advice. I'm a single income adult attempting to navigate these waters but I do not have the resources to pay for an engine to a new car with only 16k total miles nor do I have the money to pay for a new roof and the drywall/painting repair for the house. Nationwide does not seem to be on your side despite the jingle and CarMax/MaxCare does not seem to want to own up to not fully inspecting cars they purchase before off loading it onto the new customer.

Hello fellow redditors...recently retired at 69, and I want to stay active so I am starting to restore some items. I started out with garden/yard tools, then a home made wooden noah's ark for a child. The ark is only about 2 feet by 1 foot wide by about a foot high. It is home made and was gifted to me for my little one. It was starting to fall apart and needed a lot of glue and wood crack filler. I've spent about 4 hours on it now and I am ready to sand it then paint it.
I watch Rick's Restoration on the defy channel and they are right to charge a lot for a project. I am also working on a vintage pipe wrench that someone painted yellow and the paint is in every little nook and cranny so it is taking very long.
Does anyone have ideas for cleaning chemicals to use on projects? I have some but I keep experimenting with different types to find out what is the best one. I plan to start advertising to do restoring projects as I am enjoying every minute of it and It will be a good supplement to my income. Any advice will be much appreciated..Thanks!

Just casually driving through the intersection, checked my rear view mirror and saw sirens/light running . I guess an undercover LEO. I pulled to the right side to let them pass but behold they’re right behind me. Waited a minute for them to get out their vehicles then one of the officers asked “You know why I pulled you over?” I told them “Sorry I don’t” They said “You got expired license plate.
So I just bought a new car last week. May 2. Everything is under my name. Under insurance, etc.
Told them I got the car last week and now I’m driving to get my car serviced because of paint defect. They realized another paper plate in front of my vehicle then proceeds to ask for my ID. Handed it to them. Then they let me go. No warning. Nothing else to follow.
If they were to scan my ID, what were they looking for?
Will this be used against me if I try to sign up to become a LEO?

What are your favorite colors for a kids room?
I am looking for a color to paint all four walls in a South facing small bedroom for a 3 year old. A slight preference for a green or blue. I don't want the color to be overwhelming, and have looked for things like SW Holly Glen, but I worry that it would look too much like a nursery. Other colors I have considered are SW Verdigreen and Hazel
I am open to other colors besides yellow and gray. My kid seems to just love color and not care so much about what color. But, it is important that it can be something that a child can grow with. Any thoughts?
The room is currently gray, with light brown carpet and has this rug in it from Ikea.

I wanted to share my experience with the entire Carvana package now that our car is paid off and all monetary transactions with them are over.
This will get long, as it started in 2019.
We bought our 17' Rogue from Carvana in April of 2019. I was researching vehicles for close to 3 months before finally pulling the trigger on this particular model. It was about 34k miles, 2.5 years old, located in Illinois. I liked the geographic area for chances the vehicle hadn't seen a lot of snow for the first 2 years of it life as Carfax activity showed it was most likely in the southern part of the state.
I also chose this specific Rogue as the VIN indicated the vehicle was made in South Korea, as opposed to Tennessee. The difference is all Rogues made in South Korea received engines and CVT's from Japan, while US made models had engines from Japan or US, and CVT's from Mexico which was a no go for me. I will also go one more and state Korean labor for assembly is far more disciplined than what you find in the US and especially mexico. Fun fact for those still paying attention - The Nissan Rogue's that have the flat Nissan logo on the grille behind smoked plastic were made in South Korea. They stopped production there in early 2020.
What interested me in Carvana was-

1. Buying a car is the sleaziest most frustrating process from a dealer
   
2. I could hand pick from an inventory of cars across the country willing to pay for delivery
   
3. They offered me 500 dollars off the final price of a car in a letter campaign, as they were still growing
   

I started looking over inventory for a month, and decided to sign up and go for the soft credit pull to see what terms Carvana would offer. I was prequalified for a used car loan through my credit union, so I wanted to see Carvana's terms would be. The loan and term tools were pretty damn cool at the time, you could just jiggle those sliders and almost completely tailor a lending solution to fit your needs.
After the soft credit pull and a single pay stub, Carvana pre-approved me for any car up to 90k, with zero money down. I laughed. Hard. I had decent credit but wasnt going to bury myself.
After I settled down to a few models, I worked through the trade-in portion of the site, and found it was real easy to get a quote to trade in our 2005 Escape XLT which was a great car, but in Ford fashion the frame was rotting away. I had a fair offer for the trade in, described it honestly.
We also opted for the SilverRock warranty. Nissan, CVT, etc.
The big sale!
After watching how quickly some cars came and went early on, I got everything I needed for the trade in. Scan of the title, picture of the milage, car pictures. We were putting 2k down on the car, so the cash was waiting in my account, ready for transfer or cashier check if we were going to go with Carvana final loan offer.
The day I pulled the trigger on our Rogue, the entire process took all of 20 minutes. I was amazed, and honestly thought at the time "This should be illegal for how easy that was".
The offer for Carvana finance was within a couple tenths of my credit union, so I opted to simplify the process and go with them. Carvana performed a hard pull on my credit, confirmed the terms, and required confirmation from my bank that the money for deposit was in my account. I provided my bank login credentials and the process was done in minutes.
I had to provide a copy of my license and items related to the trade in, and it was done, in literally 20 minutes. I wondered if I was making a mistake..
It was an amazing deal, every dealer in the area was selling the same model for well over 2k of what we paid, so the SilverRock warranty was pretty much free after the additional 500 discount off the final price of the car.
Delivery - Trade in!
It was delayed. Twice. Pretty disappointing. Some pretty lame excuses. Honestly I should have expected a reasonable delivery date as the I knew the car I bought was 1500 miles away, but Carvana makes unrealistic delivery promises and is my biggest gripe regarding them.
When delivery day finally came, the Rogue was everything I had hoped it would be. While on the delivery truck I asked to inspect the undercarriage, and the driver was super friendly and allowed me to take my time. I looked it all over, looking for rust, oil leaks, you name it and I found nothing nothing, including nothing suspect like it had been cleaned. It was a 2-ish year old car with light dirt and surface rust where you would expect.
Once the Rogue was unloaded I was free to look it over with a fine comb, pop the hood, check the fluids, look for dents and dings, paint issues, interior issues, you name it. I found nothing major, just some minor things like paint polish slag in small corners and what not. Interior was very clean and detailed.
While I was looking over the Rogue, the delivery driver was loading the trade-in. He took some pictures, verified the mileage, checked the "check engine" light was off and started loading it on his truck.
I live in Massachusetts with very strict license and registration requirements. A few days before the delivery, someone from the Danvers site reached out to me about the registration details. I was transferring the plates from the trade in and they were finalizing the paperwork. I was provided the new registration, and the delivery driver had the new registration in hand so we could just put the plates on the Rogue and be ready to roll.
I took the Rogue for a 20 minute test drive, signed off on the purchase and trade. Driver headed off with the trade in and that was it. Carvana never called or questioned what they gave me for the trade.
Post delivery!
The very next day I brought the Rogue to work, I work in transportation/logistics and my site has ASE mechanics that I know very well. I asked him to go over the Rogue with the white glove and let me know if they think anything is wrong, as I have 6 days to return the car. They did so and they didnt find anything, just amazed at how clean the undercarriage, engine, and fluids were.
If I didn't have access to an ASE certified mechanic in this situation that I really trusted, I would have paid for a purchase inspection from a Nissan dealer. I did pay for the trusted inspection, just not in dollars lol.
After the personal vehicle inspection, my wife and I took off for a long weekend road trip roaming the White mountains of New Hampshire. Three days across many miles that easily blew out the initial vehicle 7 day warranty mileage. The Rogue was amazing through the mountains getting a ridiculous 30mpg through the entire trip. I wasn't concerned as people I trust cleared the car, and I also had the SilverRock warranty to cover the rest..
Speaking of warranty..
SilverRock!
The first, and pretty much only issue with the Rogue, was at about 48k miles. Massachusetts has a comprehensive yearly vehicle inspection program. At about 48k miles, the Rogue failed inspection for a bad inner tie rod, passenger side. Contacted SilverRock, and they gave me the local network shop here in Massachusetts, Monro.Monro is a regional repair shop here in MA with many locations. I take the Rogue to them and they diagnose that indeed the passenger side inner tie rod has gone bad. Repair tech states he has never seen one go bad on a Nissan at the current mileage.
The service manager starts looking around for the parts, called about 5 places, then calls a Nissan dealer. The Nissan dealer informs him the inner tie rod is not available for the 17, the only way to to repair the defect is replace the entire electric steering rack which comes with the inner and outer tie rods complete.
I call SilverRock with the service manager. I provide my name and vehicle make, SilverRock knows who I am right away. SilverRock rep asks whats wrong, service manager laid it down. SilverRock rep transfers us to a manager, manager asked about a few more details and then asked the service manager of Monro to send the estimate.
I get a call from the manager of Monro the next day, he said he went back and forth with SilverRock for about 20 minutes and got the entire job covered, throwing in a free front end alignment, for 1500 dollars using a genuine Nissan OEM steering rack.
SilverRock paid everything but the 100 dollar deductible. I picked up the Rogue 2 days later, paid 100, and went back for inspection. It passed.
Anyone reading this that knows about car repair, an inner tie rod costs maybe 150 dollars OEM. The fact it wasn't available and they had to replace the entire rack was absurd, yet they did it with a new OEM rack. At the time SilverRock could have required a rack used from a salvage yard, but they didn't.
I have nothing but positive things to say about SilverRock.
Bridgecrest!!
The silent partner.
I have NEVER spoken to someone at Bridgecrest. I have never called them. They have never called me.
I have NEVER emailed Bridgecrest. They have emailed me every single month for the life of my loan, after making a payment.
They fronted me the money, and expected it back. I paid it back, as expected. On time.
5 stars, and they will return the favor on my credit now that the loan is clear.
WHY YOUR MILEAGE MAY VARY
Do your homework - buying a car is a capital investment in your future that loses money. You need a car to be reliable for your job, your family, your life. You need to spend money on a regular basis to keep that car reliable, on top of your car payment.
Know your budget - Dont fall for finance traps. Only buy what you can comfortably afford, again, owning a car costs you more money than what's on the final loan payment.
Get your car inspected ASAP - Pay a dealer for a purchase inspection. Schedule it ahead of time. Inform Carvana of the issues within 3 days of delivery and ask them to pick up the car. Carvana will make the car right, as they dont want to take the car back from qualified buyers. Keep on top of them until the car is what was expected.
Why Carvana may be bad for you
You have bad credit - Better know what you are signing on for. The majority of complaints in this sub are from people that have bad credit, cant read, and cant learn from past mistakes. Thats a personal problem, not a Carvana problem.
Closing
Aside from some delays in delivery, We have had an amazing 5 year journey with Carvana and associated companies. Our Rogue is now at over 100k miles and still drives and looks like new. We perform all maintenance as required, without question.
Living in MA, the last 5 years our Rogue has taken us thousands of miles over the White Mountains of New Hampshire, all through the Mountains of Maine, and multiple trips to Canada to visit the iconic Niagara Falls.
My wife travels every day for work, and the Rogue is her daily driver putting 3k miles on the clock every 2.5 months. We change the oil every 3k miles, perform the required CVT services at the dealer, and keep the tires rotated every 8K.
The tires that came on the Rogue from Carvana were in fact new, but the kind of tires that have a 30k mile treadwear warranty. The first snowy New England day we slipped through a stop sign in light snow, the next week we replaced the tires all around with BF Goodrich Advantage TA sport tires and the Rogue has been amazing in the snow ever since.
After getting our Rogue, my coworker was so impressed he bought not 1, but 2 cars from Carvana. Bastard got both cars delivered on time, on the same day, from different parts of the country.. I was so jealous lol. His cars had some minor issues, but Carvana took car of them.
My daughter bought a Nissan as well from Carvana. It had a few front end issues, but ultimately was taken care of through constant communication with Carvana during the 7 day test drive.
Will I use Carvana again? Yes.
Will it be soon? Not really.
Our other car is a Hyundai and running strong.
Hope some of my diatribe will be useful to anyone considering Carvana as usually is all bad mouth drival posted here.

I work at a k12 school as an instructional aid. Last school year, I was paired with a class whose teacher I'll call Jane. Jane and I became fast friends. Even though I was 23 and she was in her late 30s, we were pretty good friends. She moved to a different school and while I was sad, I understood. She is an amazing woman who has a 16 and 13 year old male, and a 7 year old daughter. She also took in one of the half siblings from her first marriage. Jane is truly an amazing woman and mother. I don't know if I'd have the strength to do what she has.
For a while though, things were still going good. We'd get together and hang out. I'd go out to eat with her and the kids. We'd go to carnivals with them too sometimes. She invited me to her family's thanksgiving celebration once. She even referred to me as the kids aunt sometimes.
I don't really know about our friendship right now though. We usually text a decent amount throughout the time we can't see each other, but she ghosted me.
It really messes with me because I used to drive her eldest son home after school. He still goes to the school I work at because he's a really good athlete there. Right around spring break, he got his license. He has a license and a car now.
When I found out, I was rock painting with their family. I was super happy for him, so I stopped driving him home. He was driving himself to school now.
After that, they ghosted me. I texted her once and again because I wanted advice, but she never responded. Her daughter used to Facetime me all the time, and her son would always say good morning to me. I understand that she's a single mother to four kids, one of which isn't even biologically hers. I just feel hurt because I thought we were friends, even family.
I know I'm a lot. I'm a 24 year old woman with depression and anxiety. I have barely any friends, and I'm really lonely. I thought I was really a friend or like family. I called her my best friend. How pathetic is that? My only friend is a 38-year-old teacher who dropped my friendship as soon as I wasn't 'useful'.
Over a month later, she texted me that she misses me. Part of me is like f off, I'm not going to put effort into friendship that she doesn't care about. The other part of me remembers all the things we've done together, how I've been invited to family dinners, and she said I was like the kids' aunt. That part of me points out that she's a single mother of 4, she just doesn't always have time.
But I feel used and I still want to be friends.
Do you think it's worth it to rekindle our friendship?

I am planning on going to drive and feel the cars out somewhat soon but i’m looking at two 2014 428i’s which are about identical in price and miles, packages etc. i just can’t get off the fence since the xDrive one is visually much more appealing (black paint, black grilles, tint) than the RWD in Imperial Blue. I just know i won’t be 100% happy unless it’s a different color yet i’m also really interested to try a RWD car for the first time added to the supposed facts i’ve heard that it will handle slightly better. I’m not looking to do a bunch of drifting, maybe one day after maintenance here and there for fun but mostly just some spirited driving and commute to work, and i live in midwest but not a ton of snow where i am and only so many days a year at that so i’m confident i can get by with winter tires. Should I just suck it up and get the RWD and see about painting or wrapping later on? I feel like i may be overthinking it a bit but i want to make sure if i do end up going with the xDrive then i’m not missing out on too much with the way i’m planning to use the car. Thanks

I was in a minor accident a week or so ago. I was rear-ended by a work truck that needed to file a report for the company. (It was extremely minor. Some paint transfer, but no injuries and no airbag deployment, etc. If you've never seen my car before, you'd never know. My car is fine.) The officer on scene let me know I wasn't required to report the accident as it was under the legal threshold for damages, and since it would have only resulted in a higher deductible for me with no repayment for damage, I didn't report it to my insurance company. I kept the original report and insurance details just in case, but didn't do anything with them.
I just got a letter in the mail from the insurance adjuster for the other driver, and I'm unsure how to approach it. I was always told not to talk to lawyers without another lawyer present, and I'm worried if I reply back I would somehow get myself in trouble. I feel like talking to a claims adjuster might do the same. I want to not respond - I'm exhausted at the best of times and barely can manage life as it is - but I'm also worried I would jeopardize myself for failing to respond. If you can help talk me through this, dad, I'm really lost and this is completely unfamiliar to me.

My wheels came in faster then expected! First time buying aftermarket wheels for any of my cars and I was a bit stressed with the research and making sure everything was gonna fit the way I wanted. Happy to say it all worked out the way I’d hoped. Just wanted to thank anyone that commented on my redundant posts over the last few months. Went with 18/9.5 with +38 offset with 255/40 pilot sports(pretty common setup but I was still stressing😅). Not the biggest fan of mud flaps but I added them for some extra paint protection. Only question left if what do ya’s think of the spoke decals? I’m torn at the moment but leaning toward not putting them on. Thanks again for all the help!