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And now for something completely different.
So I went to get my oil changed today, after putting it off for three weeks. The plan was to both get my oil changed and replace my serpentine belt, because it's getting to be that time, and because last time I got my oil changed they told me I should, and because the phrase "serpentine belt" fills me with unreasoning terror, as a snapped serpentine belt was one of the (many) vehicular mishaps that befell ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daveamongus's cursed first vehicle, and I vividly recall his story of walking from the freeway to the nearest subdivision to ask to borrow a phone to call for help. Sure, I have a cell phone, but it would still mean getting towed, and I would feel like an idiot.
Feeling like an idiot is sort of a constant when it comes to me and cars, and it's a sensation that my local oil change place does nothing to alleviate - every time I've gone there in the past, the entire duration of the oil change has been spent either refusing or agreeing to whatever expensive thing they want to do to my car so it won't OMG EXPLODE as soon as I drive away. Last time I went, I had budgeted exactly enough for the most basic service, so I had to spend a lot of time declining high mileage treatment, and a coolant flush, and even a new serpentine belt, despite the unreasoning terror.
So I dragged my feet a bit about going back, but - they sent me a book of coupons, so they were still my best bet. And I can, after all, just keep saying no. The car hasn't exploded yet. But when I went to my local oil change place and handed over the coupons and told them I need an oil change and new belt, they became very confused, dragged multiple guys over to peer into my car, and finally announced that they didn't have the part and couldn't change the belt - but the guys at the other store, five miles away could, if I wanted to go there now. Sure, I said, why not. I'd already braced myself for the oil change ordeal. I went.
The guys at the other store, apparently not sufficiently warned, didn't think they could change the belt either, although after a lengthy conference under the hood they concluded that they could do it from underneath, so I handed over my coupons and settled in with Drums of Autumn, listening to Richard Marx with half an ear and preparing to absolutely refuse to have anything else done to my car, at all, really, no matter what.
Blond Oil Change Guy: Do you have air conditioning on this car?
Me: (blinking, wondering how much this is going to cost) What?
BOCG: Do you have air conditioning?
Me: Yeah...
BOCG: Okay.
Jolly Fat Oil Change Guy: (holding an oil filter) This is your new oil filter, it comes with the oil change.
Me: Okay...
At this point I was starting to feel hope. The guys at the other store had never shown me anything unless they wanted me to pay them to fix it; I'd only ever been shown parts when getting the car repaired, because there are Rules about such things.
And then...
JFOCG: Which oil do you want? Regular or high-mileage?
Me: (bracing) Regular.
JFOCG: Okay.
Me: ...
THAT WAS IT. HE JUST SAID "OKAY" AND CHANGED MY OIL. IT WAS THE BEST OIL CHANGE NOT INVOLVING RAY KOWALSKI EVER. So. Fat chance I ever go to the store nearest my apartment ever, ever, ever again.
daveamongus's cursed first vehicle, and I vividly recall his story of walking from the freeway to the nearest subdivision to ask to borrow a phone to call for help. Sure, I have a cell phone, but it would still mean getting towed, and I would feel like an idiot. Feeling like an idiot is sort of a constant when it comes to me and cars, and it's a sensation that my local oil change place does nothing to alleviate - every time I've gone there in the past, the entire duration of the oil change has been spent either refusing or agreeing to whatever expensive thing they want to do to my car so it won't OMG EXPLODE as soon as I drive away. Last time I went, I had budgeted exactly enough for the most basic service, so I had to spend a lot of time declining high mileage treatment, and a coolant flush, and even a new serpentine belt, despite the unreasoning terror.
So I dragged my feet a bit about going back, but - they sent me a book of coupons, so they were still my best bet. And I can, after all, just keep saying no. The car hasn't exploded yet. But when I went to my local oil change place and handed over the coupons and told them I need an oil change and new belt, they became very confused, dragged multiple guys over to peer into my car, and finally announced that they didn't have the part and couldn't change the belt - but the guys at the other store, five miles away could, if I wanted to go there now. Sure, I said, why not. I'd already braced myself for the oil change ordeal. I went.
The guys at the other store, apparently not sufficiently warned, didn't think they could change the belt either, although after a lengthy conference under the hood they concluded that they could do it from underneath, so I handed over my coupons and settled in with Drums of Autumn, listening to Richard Marx with half an ear and preparing to absolutely refuse to have anything else done to my car, at all, really, no matter what.
Blond Oil Change Guy: Do you have air conditioning on this car?
Me: (blinking, wondering how much this is going to cost) What?
BOCG: Do you have air conditioning?
Me: Yeah...
BOCG: Okay.
Jolly Fat Oil Change Guy: (holding an oil filter) This is your new oil filter, it comes with the oil change.
Me: Okay...
At this point I was starting to feel hope. The guys at the other store had never shown me anything unless they wanted me to pay them to fix it; I'd only ever been shown parts when getting the car repaired, because there are Rules about such things.
And then...
JFOCG: Which oil do you want? Regular or high-mileage?
Me: (bracing) Regular.
JFOCG: Okay.
Me: ...
THAT WAS IT. HE JUST SAID "OKAY" AND CHANGED MY OIL. IT WAS THE BEST OIL CHANGE NOT INVOLVING RAY KOWALSKI EVER. So. Fat chance I ever go to the store nearest my apartment ever, ever, ever again.