to top it off . . . or not (that is the question)

When I left you last Sunday evening, I was very cross about my inability to acquire G12 in an efficient and timely manner.  I went to sleep thinking about how to make the many things I had to do on Monday run smoothly, and this would include the acquisition of G12 from an inconvenient location. 

Then came the dawn of a new day.  On Monday morning, it occurred to me how extraordinarily heinous traffic would be during the time I planned to drive to the VW dealership to acquire the goods.  I remembered this heinousness from a few months prior, when I had to go to the dealership a after I had dropped Jade off at school: traffic was at a complete standstill on the freeway.  I ended up taking a bunch of backstreets and it took me twice as long to my destination as the freeway would have.  And, according to Bell (who used to travel in that direction by freeway but switched to the train and is so much happier), this traffic was business as usual.

I decided to cut my workout short so that I could get to the dealership by 7:00 a.m., when they open.  This alone was a great sacrifice because I do not like to cut my workout short. I get cranky when I have to cut my workout short.  Remember the time I saw that dude wankin' off during my run on the beach and I happened to say something to the lifeguard, and he radioed another lifeguard who asked me to stop running and go back to file a report?  That made me cranky.

However. After performing some highly technical calculations involving the cost of getting stuck in rush hour traffic vs. the benefit of having the G12 in hand early enough to make it home in time to shower and get the kids to school so that I would not have to reschedule my meetings on campus, my cost/benefit calculator came up in favor of skipping the triceps.  I'm not entirely irrational, it turns out.  And I decided not to be cranky because I was about to make my day much simpler than it first appeared it would be.

I pulled up to the dealership at 6:58, but the driveways were blocked off by those gy-hugic car-hauling trucks.  The lights at the dealership were off.  I hung out for a spell, but time kept ticking away beyond 7:00.  It was beginning to look like I had not saved myself any time, and that made me remember how I could have worked my triceps and made it here and the dealership still wouldn't be open.  Cursing under my breath, I finally parked down the block and walked up to the "Service" Center. Right thar on the window it claimed that its Hours of "Operation" were "7:00 a.m.-7:00 p.m."  But they lied!  Because by now it was 7:13 and nary a Service person was in sight.  The building was endarkened.  At 7:16 a young lady casually strolled up with her coffee in hand.

"Hey, are you guys open?" I asked.

"Isn't anyone there?" she asked.

Pointing to the endarkened Service Center I said, "I'm thinking . . . no.  Is someone supposed to be there?"

"Yeah. I'm a little late but there should be someone else in there."  Clearly she was traditionally "a little late" for work and she just assumed everyone else was more responsible than her.  "I'll go around and turn on all the lights and let you in," she kindly offered.

After five minutes of her light-turning on, she unlocked the door for me. Seated at the "service" desk was a squinty-eyed guy named Ken who looked like he had been there for hours clacking away on his keyboard. When I told him I just needed to buy some coolant he said, "I can't sell that to you.  You have to go over to the Parts Department," then he looked across the way and said, "but it doesn't look like they're open yet.  They're supposed to open at 7."  Yes.  Aren't we all.

I walked over to Parts when the lights came on.  Nobody was at the front desk.  I had to call out "Helloooooo!" a few times before someone finally moseyed up to the counter.  I asked for G12 (by name!) and voila! At long last, there it was.

"That'll be $25.18," he said.

"Are you frickin' kidding me?" I asked rhetorically, complete with loud exhalations and a vigorous head nod.  You know, because it was totally that guy's fault. He looked confused.

"No."

Liquid gold.  This is one of the planet's most precious nectars, second only to the breastmilk** I've spent countless hours pumping.

While he processed the transaction I read the back of the bottle, which instructed me to drain the old coolant, flush out the engine, and replace it with the new bottle.  And all along I thought I just needed to top off my overflow tank. So I asked the guy, "Do I have to drain the old coolant and flush the tank?  Because my manual says this coolant need not ever be fully replaced, only topped off."

"How many miles you got on your car?"

"Over 100K."

"Oh yeah, you need to drain and replace.  At 100 thousand, you should replace it. You have to replace it if there is anything in it, if it's been contaminated."

"How do I know if there is 'anything in it'?"

"Well, you have to have it analyzed."

"Analyzed? Who's going to analyze it?"

"You have to bring it to a shop that does that." By now, or maybe it was a little sooner than now, I was becoming slightly apoplectic.  At the same time, this was getting laughably ridiculous.  So you see, I struggled with my emotions.

"But the manual says it never has to be replaced."

"Yeah, it says that, but I'm just tellin' you---"

I growled a low growl, like Patty and/or Selma of The Simpsons.  So then the guy trys to get all sweet and suave-ay on me.  He tilts his fat head and says, "Heyyyyy, wha's goin' on?" Like, tell Papa your troubles, baby; it'll be all right.

"What's going ON?? I looked around everywhere for this stuff over the weekend but it turns out I can only get it here--SURPRISE!--and it's way more expensive than other coolants at the auto supply stores. [He nods sympathetically.]  I skipped part of my workout just to avoid traffic and get here early to buy this stuff when you opened, but you weren't even open so I had to wait around for you! [Here he looks guilty, and slightly afraid I'm going to tell his boss.] And now you're telling me I have to go home and DRAIN THE OLD COOLANT AND FLUSH THE SYSTEM  WITH DISTILLED WATER--or I could have the old stuff analyzed by experts first--when really, what I need to do is go home and get ready for work and get my kids to school and then drive to San Diego! THAT'S WHAT'S GOIN' ON!" I turned away from the counter, and at that point I think he realized his smooth-talking ways were fruitless.

Upon my exit, however, I had to add, "I know it's not your fault, though," because, well, it wasn't.  Still, when I got outside and saw the sign that said "PARTS" I thought, "Hey, Volkswagen--KISS MY PARTS!"

As I drove home I realized there might well be a leak in my engine or the coolant overflow tank, which would explain why it was suddenly dangerously low.  I decided to take my car to the mechanic to check this before I went through the trouble of pouring the liquid gold into my tank, only to later find out I have a leak, the fixing of which would require him to drain My Precious from the tank.  So I called Trusty Dan, whom I adore because he always bumps me up in the line (I think it's because I give him cookies and homemade toffee).  I 'splained the situation about needing a leak check, and I told him he didn't need to order the ridiculously priced VW coolant because I had just purchased some from the dealer. 

"Oh, you didn't need to do that," says Dan. "We always keep that stuff in stock."

__________

**You know how much work it is to pump that stuff out?  And inevitably someone accidentally tips over the bottle before you can get the lid on and you reach to catch it and you're all, "N-n-n-n-n-o-o-oooooooooooo!" but it's too late.  So you're left trying to sop it up off the floor or carpet with a sponge and then wring the sponge over the bottle.  I hate when that happens.

Comments

[Hippo Brigade]

I had anxiety reading your post. I actually had to pour myself some chamomile tea. I'm glad you yelled at that stupid parts guy, I wouldn't have had the nerve, I would have just sat quietly and nodded, while my insides stewed.
Oh, and the breast milk...don't even get me started. I spilt so much of it that I actually cried for 1 hour straight. And then my dog came by and licked it up, and then had leaky poo all over the house.

[Viola]

You're one tough cookie. After all that, I would probably hyperventilate and pass out on the spot. Take a deep breath....take a deep breath....you'll be okay....CRASH!!

[dgm]

hippo brigade,
if you ever need the stuff, i'd be happy to sell you the remaining 1/2 bottle for $25.

[Gina]

Among my numerous pet peeves are places that don't open when they are supposed to.

[Kady]

I know I shouldn't be laughing... but that was friggin' hilarious. Especially when the service guy said "no" in response to your rhetorical question.

[best imitation of myself]

It reminds me of the time we needed lug nuts for our VW Bug. Cue the flashback....

We were at a Brake King trying to get (surprise!) new brakes. Half an hour after turning over the keys we're told by the mechanic that they can't get the wheels off.

"I need the key to get the wheels off"
"But I gave you the key."
"No, the key for the lug nuts."
"The whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?"

Turns out that one of every four lug nuts on a New Beetle can only be removed with a special "key" that's included with the car. And ours was missing. The mechanic explained that "other mechanics" (read: guys like him") will often steal these keys for their own toolboxes. Riiiight. So we had them drop the car and we drove it down the road to the VW dealership to buy a key. For the lug nuts. Who the hell thought of this anyway?

Guess what? You can't just buy a lug nut key. First, you have to show proof of ownership of the car. Then, THEN! they order you a replacement! I don't remember how much they were charging for these, but it was just this side of are you kidding me.

"Can you just remove the locking lug nuts and replace them with regular lug nuts?", we asked.
"Well, yeah, but..." they began, in the same tone as sure, you can smoke wile you pump gas, but... "then anyone can remove your tires!"
"That's not really a problem I've ever, um, had. Make it so." I said in my best Jean-Luc Picard.

They needed a lever that was an actual eight feet long and two guys leaning on it to break the locking nuts off the wheels. Price: free. Cost of 4 new regular lug nuts: under ten bucks.

Then we went back to Brake King and they date-raped us on the brake job.

I feel your pain.

[AKV]

OMG! Are you talking about the famous DGM Toffee Surprise for which I had to get you drunk to get the recipe from you? I still have that recipe and totally claim it as my own liquid gold.

[dgm]

best imitation, ah yes, the special lug nut key. my next car? not a vw.

akv--first of, i can't believe i gave it up so easily. second, thief!