Ah, the thrill of the online marketplace. The sweet, sweet lie you tell yourself when you click “Buy Now” on that shiny performance part: “This is going to completely transform my car.”
Fast forward 8 months, and it’s still in the box. in your basement. Judging you.
Welcome to my shame corner. This is the inventory of car parts I bought, believed in, and absolutely ghosted. May this list serve as both a warning and a mirror to every fellow gearhead out there with a Paypal receipt and zero follow-through.
1. Short Throw Shifter – “Because Racecar”
Let’s start with the one that hurt the most emotionally. I bought this with dreams of buttery shifts and heel-toe heroism.
Reality check? Installing it required me to remove the entire center console and possibly sacrifice a small goat. So there it sits, still wrapped, waiting for a version of me that owns a lift, patience, and a second spine.
Shame Level: Medium
Resale Value: 30% off what I paid because “never used, but open box”
2. Cold Air Intake – “It’ll Add 10 HP, I Swear”
Every car forum made it sound like this was the Holy Grail of bolt-ons. Bought it. Opened the box. Realized I’d have to remove my bumper.
Put it back in the box.
Now it lives in my garage like a weird, metallic houseplant.
Shame Level: High
Horsepower Gained: Emotionally? 15. Physically? Zero.
3. eBay Coilovers – “Track Ready” (But I’m Not)
These were on sale. Too on sale. You know that gut feeling that says “These are going to ride like a brick wrapped in anxiety”? Yeah. I ignored that.
They’re still sitting in the basement, gathering dust and regret.
Shame Level: Severe
Chance of Installing: Lower than my current ride height
4. Universal Oil Catch Can – “Because I Heard It’s Good for the Engine”
What does it do? I… honestly don’t know. Something about catching vapor? Cleaning stuff? Preventing blow-by?
Either way, I bought it because I saw it in an Instagram reel with a guy revving in a parking garage.
Still haven’t caught a single drop of anything.
Shame Level: Existential
Functionality: Decorative
5. Big Brake Kit – “Just In Case I Ever Track the Car”
Spoiler alert: I did not track the car. I barely took it past the mall.
They were shiny. Red. Came with braided lines. I had dreams of trail braking into turn three. But guess who also had dreams of keeping their OEM wheels? Not compatible. Not even close.
Shame Level: YouTuber
Weight Added to Life: Emotional, mostly
6. Stick-On Hood Vents – “This’ll Look Sick”
They didn’t.
Shame Level: Criminal
Re-sell Potential: Please take them, I beg you
7. Throttle Controller – “For the Snappy Response, Bro”
Plug-and-play? Yes.
Did I plug it or play with it? No.
Why? Because I couldn’t figure out the wiring and got scared I’d brick my ECU and have to walk to work with my tailpipe between my legs.
Shame Level: Wi-Fi router settings
Still in Packaging? Absolutely
8. Weighted Shift Knob – “Adds Precision”
Instead, it added a dent in my passenger footwell after I dropped it and let it roll into oblivion.
Shame Level: Medium
Actual Use: Excellent paperweight
Final Thoughts: I Regret Nothing. (Okay, Some Things.)
Buying car parts you never use is like a rite of passage in the car world. It’s the gearhead version of signing up for a gym membership in January.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Wow, I do that too…”
Welcome to the club. Membership includes unused headers, unopened gauges, and excuses we keep telling ourselves.
Got a box of shame too? Drop it in the comments. Misery loves company.