When I bought my new hybrid truck, it felt like love at first sight. Compact but capable, thrifty but still a truck, it checked every box.

I told myself, this is the one. And most days, I still believe that.

The problem is, I’m not sure it believes in me.

It’s the first vehicle I’ve owned that feels more like a relationship than a machine, and not the healthy kind.

One minute, we’re cruising through town like the perfect couple, turning heads with our efficiency.

The next, the dashboard lights up like a bad argument, accompanied by the dreaded soundtrack I’ve come to know too well: the dings of doom.

Those dings came a week after I bought it, which has to be some kind of record. I remember thinking, surely this is a fluke.

After the first incident, I brought it directly to the deale

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