You Wanna Kiss Me Before You Give Me That Invoice?

The NukeVan is back in the shop.  No Air Conditioning could definitely lead to a meltdown.  We found out about this back in September, but decided not to spend the $1,200 to get it fixed right then.  Call me frugal, but it didn’t make sense.  It’s like trying to teach a pig to sing: it wastes your time and annoys the pig.  Having a perfectly operational Air Conditioner all winter would have to take a backseat to other necessities like; oh, I don’t know; food?  Electricity?  Mortgage Payments?   I told them to look for us in the spring when it would actually make sense, and the tax man had returned the money he had stolen from me (er, I mean NukeMom).

Fast forward to last Thursday when I drop the NukeVan off and confirm that they have all the information from the previous Fall.  “Oh yes sir, Mr. NukeDad!  It’s all right here in the computer.”  Good.  I went home knowing that the NukeVan would be staying overnight for observation.  Friday comes and I’m told; “Your van should be ready about 5:00pm.”  I was good with that, after all, they did have to take out the ENTIRE dashboard to get to the evaporator; the culprit in this mess.  Thank you very much Mr. Ivy League Engineering Degree Holder.  I could hear the mechanic cussing all the way over at my house.  8 to 10 hours of labor is what they estimated.  That’s how you arrive at a $1,200 repair bill; subtract the $150 charge for the parts away from the total, divide by 8 to 10 and you arrive at the reason why you should have brought your rape whistle with you.

I’m exaggerating, of course, everyone knows that you can’t buy ANY part for your car for $150.  I am, however; serious about the rape whistle.  You see, after picking up the NukeVan last Friday, I had this silly desire to turn on the Air Conditioner and make sure that it worked.  Never mind the fact that the mechanic and the service department attendant had SURELY done the same thing.  Just call me whimsical.  Within 30 seconds I was looking for my Parka.  This thing was working good!.  But, that’s when I heard the noise.  The same noise that I had described the previous fall.  The same noise that was “right here in the computer.”  The same noise that would make small woodling creatures in my neighborhood run for cover.  I’ve never actually seen or heard an F-22 Raptor take off, but it can’t sound much different than the NukeVan.  I have seen an F-4 Phantom take off, and as impressive as that is, I don’t want the neighbors calling NATO every time I pull in the driveway. 

I had way too much to get done over the weekend, and they’re closed on Sunday anyway, so I set my sites on Monday.  Then I remembered how busy Monday was going to be.  And Tuesday.  Wednesday is go have lunch at school with Nukeboy1, so today was the first chance I had to get back over there.  They knew I was coming, though.  Believe me.  Dealerships are all about “getting the feedback”.  It’s how most of them get their money from Corporate Headquarters.  I had a letter sitting on the seat of the car.  There were signs all over their shop asking you to “Please” respond to the survey.  It was on the claim ticket attached to my key.  I think they even mailed one to my Mom in Texas.  They pass out so many copies that it stupefies me why they can’t print clean copies off of their computer.  Here is a picture of the actual “letter” that was sitting on my front seat.  Hand to God, that’s what they left me.  At the very least they could teach people how to properly line up a page on a copy machine, for crying out loud.  Instead I got a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy….  Half of the text is missing!  I don’t remember them teaching us in Business letter writing class that you needed a 6 inch left margin.  Finally, there is “The Phone Call”.  I knew it was coming, and I played along.  “Do you have a few minutes to discuss your recent visit to XYZ dealership and your experience there?”  Actually, no, I don’t have the time; but I’ll make time, just this once. 

We’ve taken the NukeVan to this dealership several times, and have overall been satisfied with the service, I’m just pissed that I have to take it back again.  Did I stutter when I said “Noise under the hood?”  Did they hear “No S**t, you guys are good?”  I don’t know what they heard, all I know is what I hear.  Nukeboy2 thinks it “Sounds awesome Dad! It sounds like a Lamborghini!”  Yeah, chicks dig the mini-van that sounds like a European sports car that’s worth more than our house.  I can’t wait to hear what they’re going to tell me when they call to tell me what’s wrong with it this time.  I’m ready, though.  I have my rape whistle in my pocket, and I’m not afraid to use it.