Hertz Doughnut
Chevy Chase OWNS that line, you bastards!
I’ve been having a real devil of a time finding a decent
mechanic in this town.* Regular readers will remember that last summer I spent
a large amount of money having The Mystery Wagon “fixed” by a
friendly-yet-incompetent Russian mechanic who repaired my steering gear while
simultaneously breaking my horn and permanently turning my airbag light on.
They probably teach this “one step forward, two steps back” method of auto repair in shitty
mechanic school as a means to make sure your customers always have something
that needs fixing.
*I know I’m writing two car-related updates in a row; this
is not a coincidence. Over the next month I’m going to gradually phase out the
long winded, narcissistic rambling and pop culture-related updates and
transition this into a blog about Subaru repair and maintenance. I
know this may be upsetting to some of you, but the idea tested really well in
focus groups.
In the months since, I’ve gone to three or four different
mechanics to try and repair the damage done by my first mechanic, all of whom
have looked at my car and failed to fix the existing problems while diagnosing
several new ones and either wasting my time or outright disrespecting me in the
process. (All of them have had near-perfect Yelp scores too, so fuck you,
crowdsourcing.)
The result is that I now know there are a laundry list of
things wrong with my car and a laundry list of mechanics who I don’t trust to
fix them. Further complicating the matter is the fact that some of the mechanics have
dismissed the other mechanics’ diagnoses. I don’t know if I should believe
Incompetent Mechanic 1 who says I need new engine mounts, Incompetent Mechanic
2 who says my engine mounts are fine but ominously pronounced my left front
wheel “loose”, or if I should just trust neither
of them being as they’re both incompetent and seem to have started learning English at
about the same time I graduated from high school.
The upshot is that being caught in traffic is never boring now
– I’m always on the edge of my seat, wondering both if something is going to go wrong with my car on this outing, and
if so, which thing? Will it be the engine mounts, the left wheel, or maybe a
last-minute upset in the form of a freak electrical fire? It’s like March
Madness, except I lose every time and my car is the only thing to suffer a
gruesome, career ending injury.
This situation isn’t sustainable, so I’ve decided to bite
the bullet and take The Mystery Wagon to the one mechanic in Los Angeles who I
both like and trust: A man named Cal who did some minor repair work on my car
over a year ago. The best thing about Cal is that he grew up speaking the same
language that I grew up speaking (English) – this is a good skill to have,
because explaining in detail what’s wrong with a car requires a lot of spot on
subject-verb agreements if you want to make any kind of sense.
The reason I haven’t gone to Cal before is because his shop
is 20 miles away from me in Culver City, and is only open for a couple of hours
on Saturday every weekend. I need my car to get home from Cal’s, but I have to
leave my car at Cal’s so he can fix it so that it doesn’t break down and
prevent me from going to work, where I earn the money I need to pay Cal to fix
my car. It’s a punishing cycle from which the only escape is a rental car.
After several weeks of procrastination (which probably
didn’t do The Mystery Wagon any favors) I finally sat down today to book a
rental car for the entirety of next week, which will hopefully be long enough
for Cal to look at my car, explain to me in perfect English what very expensive
repairs need to be made, and then make them.
The results were frustrating.
There are two Hertz Rent-A-Car offices within walking
distance of Cal’s shop, both of which are closed on weekends. I guess I can
understand why – keeping your business open on weekends would be a surefire way
to both better serve your customers and earn money, two things that spell
certain death for any company. What this means for me is that I have to go
clear to LAX to pick up a rental car after
dropping off my only means of transportation with Cal.
It seems like the less car I have, the more driving I have
to do. If I just didn’t get my car fixed I’d only have to drive a few miles to
the office and back every day, but the second I get rid of my car for a week
I’m faced with a unique set of problems which can only be solved by car possession.
I’ve just now realized that having an old car is a lot like
having a dog – it costs a lot of money, requires frequent attention, and under
the right circumstances can completely turn your life upside down for a period
of time.
On the plus side, The Mystery Wagon doesn’t crap all over the place – but at
the same time, I’ve never had a cute girl run up to me in a parking garage and
say, “Oh my God, your Subaru is so cute!
Can I pet him?”
Truman Capps, for all his bitching, can’t imagine
life without The Mystery Wagon.