Joining the Ranks of the Over-spent Americans, Part 3 (Or, An Expensive Lesson on the Perils of New Car Ownership)
When Jane and I drove the Relay out of the dealership lot on Wednesday night, I almost cried for joy. I couldn't believe I was driving my own, new car. Gobsmacked, I would say. The ride is so smooth, and unlike the wagon, it doesn't rattle! I feel like I command the road. I LOVE driving this thing.
And I just had to drive it into work yesterday morning. My coworkers ooh-ed and ah-ed as I demonstrated it's fun features like the automatic sliding rear passenger door and DVD player. Yep, I was pretty darn proud of myself.
But I was reminded this morning that nature requires balance. I'm becoming convinced that for just about every bit of giddiness one can feel, there is an equal amount of sobering grief. For me, the grief came in the form of a flat tire.
Last night, I ran over/into a low granite slab that lines the edge of our gaybors' notoriously difficult driveway. I thought nothing of it, though Jill was conviced that I indeed punctured the tire. I gave it a quick inspection, neither saw nor heard a problem, and called it a night.
Fast forward to this morning. I checked the tire at the house -- no visible problem. Got to Chestnut Hill T station and checked it again. It was noticeably deflated. Crap...crap, crap, crap. Went to a nearby service station, gave it some air and a closer inspection. Of course my untrained eye couldn't find a single thing wrong with it, so I went back to Chestnut Hill station. Parked, checked it again.
Panic. Terror. It was as though I hadn't put any air in it at all. Oy! My brand new tires! If I left it there, it would surely be completely flat by the time I returned from work. After a fruitless call to Jane, I had decided to try and make it to the dealership. I stopped at a garage near our house to make sure I wasn't riding the tire down to the rim. While backing up to the air pump, the manager could actually hear the air escaping, but only when the tire was in a particular position (i.e. when the portion of the tire that had the puncture was closest to the road and therefore had the most pressure applied to it -- which explained the clicking noise I was hearing on the drive over there). He offered to take a look at it and plug it if necessary. 20 bucks. Whew!
My relief was short-lived. The puncture was on the tire wall -- a rough gash the size of a pea. Completely unrepairable and defintely not covered under our warranty. I asked for a quote for replacement, paid my 20 bucks for their assessment and help with the spare, and went home to think it over.
I called Saturn immediately. Their price for replacing the tire was $50 more that what the guy at the local garage quoted. Considering all the money we've put towards auto repair and purchasing this month, I decided to go with the neighborhood garage. I hope I've made the right decision. Looking back on it now, I probably could've convinced Saturn to give me discount on the repair and somehow keep the new tire protected under the warranty. But I simply wasn't thinking that clearly. I just want the damn thing fixed, quickly and cheaply.
More to come...
And I just had to drive it into work yesterday morning. My coworkers ooh-ed and ah-ed as I demonstrated it's fun features like the automatic sliding rear passenger door and DVD player. Yep, I was pretty darn proud of myself.
But I was reminded this morning that nature requires balance. I'm becoming convinced that for just about every bit of giddiness one can feel, there is an equal amount of sobering grief. For me, the grief came in the form of a flat tire.
Last night, I ran over/into a low granite slab that lines the edge of our gaybors' notoriously difficult driveway. I thought nothing of it, though Jill was conviced that I indeed punctured the tire. I gave it a quick inspection, neither saw nor heard a problem, and called it a night.
Fast forward to this morning. I checked the tire at the house -- no visible problem. Got to Chestnut Hill T station and checked it again. It was noticeably deflated. Crap...crap, crap, crap. Went to a nearby service station, gave it some air and a closer inspection. Of course my untrained eye couldn't find a single thing wrong with it, so I went back to Chestnut Hill station. Parked, checked it again.
Panic. Terror. It was as though I hadn't put any air in it at all. Oy! My brand new tires! If I left it there, it would surely be completely flat by the time I returned from work. After a fruitless call to Jane, I had decided to try and make it to the dealership. I stopped at a garage near our house to make sure I wasn't riding the tire down to the rim. While backing up to the air pump, the manager could actually hear the air escaping, but only when the tire was in a particular position (i.e. when the portion of the tire that had the puncture was closest to the road and therefore had the most pressure applied to it -- which explained the clicking noise I was hearing on the drive over there). He offered to take a look at it and plug it if necessary. 20 bucks. Whew!
My relief was short-lived. The puncture was on the tire wall -- a rough gash the size of a pea. Completely unrepairable and defintely not covered under our warranty. I asked for a quote for replacement, paid my 20 bucks for their assessment and help with the spare, and went home to think it over.
I called Saturn immediately. Their price for replacing the tire was $50 more that what the guy at the local garage quoted. Considering all the money we've put towards auto repair and purchasing this month, I decided to go with the neighborhood garage. I hope I've made the right decision. Looking back on it now, I probably could've convinced Saturn to give me discount on the repair and somehow keep the new tire protected under the warranty. But I simply wasn't thinking that clearly. I just want the damn thing fixed, quickly and cheaply.
More to come...
posted by jennybunny at 12:35 PM
1 Comments:
START TAKING VALIUM NOW- THE FIRST DING OR SCRATCH IS GONNA KILL YA! IT'S ALMOST BETTER TO DO IT YOURSELF AND GET IT OUT OF THE WAY IN CONTROLLED CIRCUMSTANCES-ALCHOL AND/OR DRUGS READILY AT HAND.
Post a Comment
<< Home