"Well, they finally did it. They killed my f**king car, man."
--The Big Lebowski
I drive a 2001 blue Volkswagon Jetta. The inside smells like crayon. Blue crayon. I've only had it for a year, and the previous owner did not drive it much.
I have a computerized dash that can tell me how long I've been driving, how many miles, my average speed this trip, my current miles to the gallon that changes depending on how much gas I give it, and my average miles to the gallon.
Last thursday night, after dropping off my girlfriend at her house and on my way home, I heard a loud, obnoxious noise emanating from my dash, a sound usually reserved for letting me know that I need gas. I look to the little screen, and my trip time has been replaced with large red letters that flash the word STOP over and over again.
Well, since this is such a strange occurence, naturally I listen and pull over into a church parking lot. The dash then says "Check Coolant" and then "Service Manual", all the while making that incessant beeping.
I pull out my manual, see what it has to say about coolant, and then open up my hood. I check the coolant reservoir but don't open it because I still have a hot engine, but in the darkness it looks like the reservoir is completely empty.
Then I hear a familiar sound and look down to my feet. There is a huge puddle forming under my tire, and I'm pretty sure I didn't just drive over it.
I bend down to look and it's as if a faucet has been installed under my hood. There's a constant stream of liquid pouring out of my car. I can't tell what color it is because I'm in the dark, but it's pretty odorless, so I hope it's just water.
Still, it's after midnight, so who am I going to call to come pick me up? I considered trying to make it back home, but that would have been a terribly bad idea, especially at this time of night.
So I call my girlfriend, Jennifer (yes she has a name!) who has just gotten into bed, and I don't really want to have her drive me all the way back to my house because she needs to get up at 6 AM for work. So I call my mom, but she's half-asleep, grumpily confirms what I'm asking her to do in her somnambular stupor ("So you want me to... get out of bed... and come get you... now?"), and I decide that's a bad idea too.
So Jennifer comes to pick me up, I sleep on her couch, and I figure I'll sort it all out in the morning. Well, six hours comes pretty fast, and I can either get a ride with Jennifer to my car on her way to work, or I can wait a few hours at her house and ride with her mom on her way to Chapel Hill.
I choose the former (not that I don't enjoy hanging out with her mom when Jennifer is away), talk to my dad who tells me to get some water and fill the reservoir (which now, in the morning light, I can see is completely empty), and drive to the Volkswagon dealership.
My first stop is at a gas station to buy a water bottle. I start pouring it into the reservoir, checking to make sure I don't fill is past the "minimum" line, but then I hear the sound of water going down the drain. I look back into the globular tank and see that the water is disappearing. A quick check under the car confims that it's leaking back out again, this time with a strange, orange liquid.
Luckily, I make it to the Volkswagon dealership before my car overheats and explodes, and I proceed to park it in the longest service line I've ever seen there before.
They're not sure if they can get to my car that day because of all the appointments before me, but luckily they have a shuttle that runs at 8:30 and it can take me home if I need to.
Well, I'm glad I didn't take a chance that they could fix my car by lunch-time because I don't receive a call back from them until around 1:30 PM. They tell me that my radiator hose splits off in two ways in the engine, and somewhere in there it split apart completely, or something like that. I don't really know. I don't "do" cars, and I really should. But he says they've got to replace a part, and the cost of the part and labor will be something like $325.
$325. $325. $325. $325?!?!
Whatever, whatever, just get it fixed and give me my car back. I'd like to pretend I'm a busy man and that I'm going to need it a lot this weekend.
Two hours later I receive another call from VW. I miss the phone so I listen to the voicemail message:
"Hey Mr. Baker, this is Dave from Volkswagon. It turns out that the part that the computer said we had-- well, we don't actually have it. And the part isn't anywhere in North Carolina either, so we have to ship it up from Jacksonville Florida, so your car won't be ready until Tuesday. But you can't drive your car this weekend, it's a bad idea and will just make it worse. Please call me back. Have a good day!"
Well, that's just freakin' great. No problem, I enjoy being stranded for four days. Thank goodness I don't have a job.
Wow, I never thought I'd hear myself saying that.
But, if you want a happier ending to this tale, my father went out of town today for a week and is letting me use his car, which runs on company gas. Cha-ching! I'm literally saving money!
... That is, until I go back to VW on Tuesday. Awesome.
--Cbake
I drive a 2001 blue Volkswagon Jetta. The inside smells like crayon. Blue crayon. I've only had it for a year, and the previous owner did not drive it much.
I have a computerized dash that can tell me how long I've been driving, how many miles, my average speed this trip, my current miles to the gallon that changes depending on how much gas I give it, and my average miles to the gallon.
Last thursday night, after dropping off my girlfriend at her house and on my way home, I heard a loud, obnoxious noise emanating from my dash, a sound usually reserved for letting me know that I need gas. I look to the little screen, and my trip time has been replaced with large red letters that flash the word STOP over and over again.
Well, since this is such a strange occurence, naturally I listen and pull over into a church parking lot. The dash then says "Check Coolant" and then "Service Manual", all the while making that incessant beeping.
I pull out my manual, see what it has to say about coolant, and then open up my hood. I check the coolant reservoir but don't open it because I still have a hot engine, but in the darkness it looks like the reservoir is completely empty.
Then I hear a familiar sound and look down to my feet. There is a huge puddle forming under my tire, and I'm pretty sure I didn't just drive over it.
I bend down to look and it's as if a faucet has been installed under my hood. There's a constant stream of liquid pouring out of my car. I can't tell what color it is because I'm in the dark, but it's pretty odorless, so I hope it's just water.
Still, it's after midnight, so who am I going to call to come pick me up? I considered trying to make it back home, but that would have been a terribly bad idea, especially at this time of night.
So I call my girlfriend, Jennifer (yes she has a name!) who has just gotten into bed, and I don't really want to have her drive me all the way back to my house because she needs to get up at 6 AM for work. So I call my mom, but she's half-asleep, grumpily confirms what I'm asking her to do in her somnambular stupor ("So you want me to... get out of bed... and come get you... now?"), and I decide that's a bad idea too.
So Jennifer comes to pick me up, I sleep on her couch, and I figure I'll sort it all out in the morning. Well, six hours comes pretty fast, and I can either get a ride with Jennifer to my car on her way to work, or I can wait a few hours at her house and ride with her mom on her way to Chapel Hill.
I choose the former (not that I don't enjoy hanging out with her mom when Jennifer is away), talk to my dad who tells me to get some water and fill the reservoir (which now, in the morning light, I can see is completely empty), and drive to the Volkswagon dealership.
My first stop is at a gas station to buy a water bottle. I start pouring it into the reservoir, checking to make sure I don't fill is past the "minimum" line, but then I hear the sound of water going down the drain. I look back into the globular tank and see that the water is disappearing. A quick check under the car confims that it's leaking back out again, this time with a strange, orange liquid.
Luckily, I make it to the Volkswagon dealership before my car overheats and explodes, and I proceed to park it in the longest service line I've ever seen there before.
They're not sure if they can get to my car that day because of all the appointments before me, but luckily they have a shuttle that runs at 8:30 and it can take me home if I need to.
Well, I'm glad I didn't take a chance that they could fix my car by lunch-time because I don't receive a call back from them until around 1:30 PM. They tell me that my radiator hose splits off in two ways in the engine, and somewhere in there it split apart completely, or something like that. I don't really know. I don't "do" cars, and I really should. But he says they've got to replace a part, and the cost of the part and labor will be something like $325.
$325. $325. $325. $325?!?!
Whatever, whatever, just get it fixed and give me my car back. I'd like to pretend I'm a busy man and that I'm going to need it a lot this weekend.
Two hours later I receive another call from VW. I miss the phone so I listen to the voicemail message:
"Hey Mr. Baker, this is Dave from Volkswagon. It turns out that the part that the computer said we had-- well, we don't actually have it. And the part isn't anywhere in North Carolina either, so we have to ship it up from Jacksonville Florida, so your car won't be ready until Tuesday. But you can't drive your car this weekend, it's a bad idea and will just make it worse. Please call me back. Have a good day!"
Well, that's just freakin' great. No problem, I enjoy being stranded for four days. Thank goodness I don't have a job.
Wow, I never thought I'd hear myself saying that.
But, if you want a happier ending to this tale, my father went out of town today for a week and is letting me use his car, which runs on company gas. Cha-ching! I'm literally saving money!
... That is, until I go back to VW on Tuesday. Awesome.
--Cbake
posted by Cbake at 11:40 AM
2 Comments:
i,m broke but i can contribute $50. Why didn,t you call me, you know I am not asleep half the night and I would have rescued you love, guess who.
Poor baby! You know I'll come get you anytime... stranded or not! Plus, its not like I need my brain for my job anyway!
- Jennifer (no last name yet-ha!)
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