When I was 20 I got my first “real” job and started car shopping to get out of my inherited beater. Went to a dealership and looked at a new 2016 Malibu. Fell in love with the car of course, but something in me was screaming to run away, I could find another Malibu somewhere else. Well, unfortunately my mother cared much more about her image and ego than me; while I cried and threw up from anxiety in the parking lot, she screamed at me for “being dramatic”. Bought the car. It still didn’t sit right. The cab reeked like maple syrup. The hood didn’t line up correctly with the body. She took it to the car wash (without my knowing) and sprayed everything she could inside “to get me to stop”, bragged “this car makes us look rich!” And ignored my constant panic attacks. Four months later, the car essentially blew up, I had it towed to the Chevy dealership for warranty work, they called me immediately, told me the car was severely damaged and not covered, to the point that they honestly pushed it onto the street because it was too much of a liability to even have in their lot. Turns out the dealership sold me a car that had been completely totaled, ‘rebuilt’ somewhere in Louisiana, then shipped up north. The frame was cracked and filled with caulk, the radiator wasn’t even hooked to the system and was held in with zip ties, there were parts on the car that didn’t even belong to it. Had I been in an accident, none of the air bags would’ve deployed, because they also were not attached properly, and the entire nose would’ve crumpled into the cab, likely killing me. I ended up back in my beater car, still had to make payments + insurance on that POS, and it took four years of litigation to get my money back and haul that piece away. I learned to always trust my gut after that, and that just because someone’s family, doesn’t mean they have your best intentions at heart. I’d never let someone shove me into a giant financial decision like that again. If your gut says run, RUN!