Our car took a week-long convalescence last week, and the bill came to about what you’d expect for a stay at a swanky spa: $1,258.04.

Clunk, indeed. Except that’s the sound of our wallets hitting the floor.

The total is about 9 car payments; of course we finished paying off  the car about six months ago. The money we were done shoveling down its twisted, “piss-poor” (our beloved auto mechanic Pat’s words) excuse for guts was earmarked for debt.

That bill went on the credit card, of course — not going “kablooey” at 65 mph being more important than adding another year to the debt sentence.

Here’s the punchline: Our shop guys say the main problem was the whole works was plugged up, and that the only explanation is that whoever owned it before we did never changed the oil. We bought it off lease at the very end of 2003, when it was two years old.

“Carmic” payback? I’m a good driver, but a terrible parker, as my dinged fenders will attest.

Could a car really get that messed up in two years? We bought it from a reputable used car dealer, so I’m not sure that makes sense — especially to take so long from sale to implosion.

That it is healed, if not entirely cured, is without question — it handles like a car and not a rattletrap wheezebag.

But even after all that, our car is still having the last lachen — being a Volkswagen, yah, it communicates to us in an exaggerated German accent.

After one serene day of no beeping about the boot lid or emissions or tracking systems, it’s now back to its default — the “check engine” light.

Scheisse!

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