serendipity

All's well that ends well

The dealer just called. They are sorry.

They were in a tough situation.

They hope I can understand.

They will be refunding my money immediately.

If I have any problems with the car I should bring it in.

(Cue: clapping)

 

Getting the shaft

 

Here is an update on my BMW story. Get ready, it's not a happy one.

 

You may remember what happened. Stranded twice in one day. First at the Bay Bridge, then in San Francisco. Rescued by a friend and a nice tow truck driver.

 

It turns out I have a cracked radiator. Actually since these things are made out of plastic, I have a ruptured seam. Nothing to be done but to replace it. $1,100, thank you. Because they feel bad that I broke down in such a bad location, they will pay for half of the repairs. Out of courtesy, not because they did anything wrong.

 

The thing is, the car was in the dealership twice. The first time for the 60K service, and a second time to specifically to check the coolant alert. The paperwork says that they couldn't find a leak but added coolant anyway. So even though they looked at the coolant system twice, first at the service, then again when the coolant light came on, they say that the ruptured radiator is just a coincidence. Bad timing. They are sorry they didn't find any problems beforehand, but they looked at the system and sometimes that's just how life is. Or at least that is what they said yesterday.

 

Today the service manager says they never touched the coolant system during the inspection, even though the specs for Inspection II include this description:

 

Engine Compartment

1. Read out diagnostic system
2. Check engine cooling system/heater hose connections for leaks.
3. Check coolant level and antifreeze protection level; add coolant if necessary.

 

So either they touched the cooling system or if they didn't, they were supposed to.

 

The notes from the subsequent paperwork show that when they got the car back to the dealer the second time they 

"check coolant ad 1Q coolant pressur test no leak find thise time" (sic)

 

So, even though they checked the coolant during the service, they had to add coolant a week later. Or else they didn't touch it the first time and now they are adding coolant. But no leak was found this time. Huh.

So now the service manager says that they never touched the cooling system, never told us there was an air bubble in the cooling system and that even if there had been an air bubble there is no way it would have caused the radiator to boil over and rupture. In an effort to save his butt he is trying to rewrite history. Luckily, his paperwork tells a different story. Even more lucky is that I actually kept track of the paperwork.

 

Since then we've had three different mechanics tells us that we are right to believe there is probable cause and effect here. Either they didn't do something they were supposed to: check the cooling system during the service. Or they screwed up the cooling system during the service and couldn't figure out what they did wrong when they got the car back the second time. And/or they really screwed up the system when they got it back the second time.

 

Our position is that they should eat the total cost of the radiator repair. It was their fault, either through negligence or incompetence.

 

To add insult to injury, we have no way of knowing if the all-critical head gasket has been damaged and there is no way to tell until or unless things start to go wrong. If the head gasket has been damaged then the damage to the car will likely be catastrophic and there will be nothing to do but to get a new car. (Certainly not from them) In the meantime I get to drive this car every day with my kids in it and wonder if disaster is just around the corner. Won't that be nice?

 

But hey, it's just a coincidence right? Those nice guys at the dealer wouldn't take advantage of a woman just because she doesn't know a thing about cars. And they wouldn't lie about it later, would they? Because that would be wrong.

Since the service manager refuses to talk to us about this any further we have no choice but to contact the dealer management. I am also looking for contacts at BMW USA. If I don't get anywhere with them, my next recourse is to post a complaint on Craig's list, Yelp, Dealerratings.com and to report them to the Bureau of Automotive repair.

I know how much you enjoy irony, so here's what it says at the bottom of my repair paperwork:

 

You will soon receive a customer satisfaction survey call regarding today's service visit. If you can't rate us a "5", please contact your service advisor, or our service manager.

 

5 = excellent. That call is going to be interesting.

 

Oh, and last night after I brought the car home for the third time? As soon as I pulled into the driveway, my "check rear lights" alert went off.

Well that was fun (not so much)

Last week I had the BMW serviced. At 60K miles, it's a big service. The we're-going-to-need-to-keep-the-car-overnight service. The-we're-going-to-have-the-doctor-perform-a-cavity-search-to-look-for-other-problems (and find them) service. You should be getting the impression that it cost a lot of money. It did.

For brevity's sake I'm going to skip the part where the receptionist argues with me about my non-discounted bill.

The day after I picked up the car my coolant light went on. This is not good. Big service. Replaced hoses. Replaced fluids. Replaced brakes. Car should be perfect now, right?

Yeah.

So I call and say "WTF?" They say, oh, how strange. Please come in today. Here is a loaner car. Be happy. We love you. This time we really will give you a discount.

Get the car back the next day (Thursday night). Friday the coolant light goes on again. I know there is coolant in there. I remember them saying, oh it was just an air bubble, no big deal but it upset the sensor. I assume the same thing is happening and that the car is safe to drive. Idiot.

Saturday, I load up three girls (one is a loaner) and my dog and drive to Colusa. Right before we arrive my "check brake lights" light goes on. I just replaced those brakes. Grrr.

Sunday we drive home. Everything is fine until we get to the Bay Bridge. There is a queue and we are in it. I see steam beginning to rise from my engine. Oh god. I'm going to be that person. The one who totally screws up bridge traffic with her car problems. I watch as the temperature gage starts to shift to the right (wrong direction). By the time we get to the toll booth we are in full-blown trouble. I tell the toll-taker, who is wearing rubber gloves and a surgeon's mask by the way, that I have to pull over now. Where do I go? She says, somewhat unhelpfully "there are two medians, one on the left and one on the right." This felt about as helpful as the Caterpillar's "one side will make you grow taller and the other side will make you grow shorter." I go left.

To nothing.

All I can see are a thousand of lanes of cars flying towards the Bay Bridge of Doom. Finally, I stop at the last possible place - the gravel area in between what feels like 20 lanes of traffic.

For the first time I am happy to see the CHP officer who tells me that someone from CalTrans will come and help me for free. Please stay in the car with our seat belts on (in case someone accidentally flies into us). The girls are full of questions. What is happening? Are we in danger? Who is CalTrans? The dog is shaking like a leaf. I don't know why but he keeps trying to crawl into my lap. I explain about how car engines are hot and need to be made cool. I stroke the dog's ear and insist he stay on his side of the car.

CalTrans arrives in the big orange truck. There is much rejoicing.

I swear to you that the CalTrans guy was once an extra on the Sopranos. 55 years old. Wife-beater t-shirt under the orange jumpsuit. Lots and lots of visible chest hair. White helmet that he places carefully on his head as I watch. Big gold chain with gold amulets on it. If he falls into the Bay it will surely drag him under. This is my savior.

He pours water into my radiator for minutes and says "this should be enough to get you home." I am hopeful that it will.

Of course it is not.

Over the bridge and through the woods to grandmother's house -- straight into downtown traffic. 101 is completely stopped and I know that I am done for. There is no way we will survive stop-and-go traffic. I get off at 5th street to cut across to 280. At the 5th street traffic light we get the big steam dump from the hood. There is no way this car is getting us home. Expletive deleted here.

I pull over on 6th and Bryant. Not a great neighborhood on a deserted Sunday evening, but it could be worse. Water is pouring out from under the car. I have a leak. I call AAA. The woman on the phone is named Karen. "Hi Karen, this is Karen. I'm stranded with three kids and a dog, please send help." She does.

I call Fred, father of the loaner child and very good friend (who, from now on will be known to all as "Saint Fred The Goodness"). He is on his way to rescue us. In the car, the girls write messages seeking help on the steamy back window. When the steam is gone that is going to be one giant smear. But they are being so cool and calm about the whole thing that I can't complain. Juju gives me a big smile and pets me. "Little girls don't do this," she says. "Big girls do this." She says this about everything. Yes, sweetie pie, you are big girl.

The AAA guy shows up before Saint Fred the Goodness does. His name is Paul and he is very nice. He is worried that he cannot fit us, and all our stuff, into his truck. Especially because he has just purchased the cutest giant singing Santa Claus for $9 and it is taking up most of the front seat. There is no back seat. I explain to him that my friend is coming and I would really appreciate it if he did not leave me alone on the street with three kids and a dog. He agrees that this would not be good and begins the world's longest hitching process. I love you Paul.

I call BMW. They start to say things like "we close at 6pm so you should make sure the tow truck is here before the gate is closed" which is entirely the wrong approach. In front of the children I have to use nice language, like you guys have totally messed this up and this is the second time today that I've been stranded. I would really appreciate it if someone could hang around a little while for the tow truck to arrive. My words are nice but my tone is not. They get the picture.  Another Paul, this time the BMW sales manager, agrees to stay late. He has no idea what a good idea that was. Well maybe he has some idea.

Saint Fred The Goodness arrives and we make the transfer to his van. He drives us home and helps me unload our stuff. 

Alone, I crack open a nice bottle of red wine for a much-needed glass. We will be eating pizza tonight.

Tomorrow I will have to kick the shit out of BMW. Of course, the real Peter Pan would not have screwed things up so royaly. Or at least not past the point where Tinkerbell couldn't save him. (Cue J.M. Barrie, turning in grave.)

It's almost time to put the kids to bed  - and me too. That's enough excitement for one day.

Stranded

Waiting for caltrans to save us

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Quest for Phone

No one has ever accused me of being an early adopter - especially when it comes to consumer electronics. Oh, there was this one friend who used to call me "gadget girl" but that was just her way of being nice. This was back when I had a Blackberry, a long time ago - back when they looked like pagers. I had a number of PDAs too. But they all sucked. So now I have nothing. A laptop and a phone. A dumb phone at that. A Razr.

 

Part of why I am such a laggard is because I'm jaded. I spent several years in the consumer electronics industry as a VP for a GPS company and if there is one thing I've learned, it's the following:

 

1. Never buy anything first. It doesn't matter what it is, it will always be buggy right off the line - ironically at the point when it is also the most expensive. Wait until the price drops if you want a stable product.
2. By the time it stabilizes you won't want it anymore because the next great thing will have been announced and you must have it.
3. There is always a next big thing.

 

I think it is this Pavlovian system that sets some people up for never being able to settle down with the "right person" but that is an entirely different post.

 

Back to my point. Until a little over a year ago I still carried a Motorola Startac (I know, I know - and of course everyone made fun of me). Then I had lunch with my friend Robert and saw his new Razr. I was immediately smitten. Finally a phone worth the hassle (no SIM card in the StarTac, a new phone means all those numbers have to be entered again).

 

At the same time, I started blogging. Having entered the technology age I soon realized that half the fun of blogging was taking pictures and sending them to my blog. I liked this too, because it meant that I actually had pictures of my kids (I never carry a camera). Two birds, one stone. I love that.

 

But when I got my Razr, Barak made fun of me, saying "the camera sucks." I chalked it up to jealousy of course, my phone was so much cuter than his, how could the camera suck? In fact, how could the phone not be perfect?

 

Let me count the ways.

 

One second thought, let's not, there are too many and this post is already too long. (Don't leave yet, there is an audience participation part at the end where I beg for help.)

The net of my life is that the only time I take pictures of anything is when I do it with my phone. Therefore I need a good camera on my phone. 

 

I am also a busy marketing person. I need access to my email all the time which should mean my phone but doesn't because (repeat after me) my Razr sucks.

 

Cute as it is, it has to go.

 

I need a phone that:

 

• Makes calls - no really, I have to be able to put it up to my ear without the assistance of a third party
• Has email
• Access to the internet
• Some kind of keyboard
  Wifi
• Bluetooth (I think so, don't I? Maybe not. Yes, yes, for the headset I will almost never wear)
• A really good camera (I said that already)
• And it has to weigh less than a brick
• And it has to be cute. (Yes, I'm shallow that way.)
• On Cingular.

 

I started off lusting after the Nokia N73. It was getting raves in the US for it's 3.2 megapixel camera (size matters, right?) with Zeiss optics. But it's not so smart. And the European customers (I would have to buy this unlocked online), are not happy. It is slow they say. Slow is bad. Add that to my list: cannot be slow.

 

The Nokia N93 was supposed to be a great camera, but too big and clunky to be a  phone. And it's not smart either. And while the N93i is even cuter and smaller (hello gorgeous), I think it is still not smart enough. Boo hoo.

 

Treo. No. I don't have a math degree. Say what you like, I have never met a person in real life who actually liked their Treo and I always ask as soon as I see one.

 

James Bond phone (limited edition silver, seems sold out now). Cute but not smart enough and questionable camera.

 

Samsung Blackjack. No 3G (I'm told I need 3G so that I can flit around the world - add that to the list). Worse, the camera is run of the mill. And it's not cute. If it's not cute it needs to be smart and a good camera. Next.

 

Blackberry Pearl. Sweet. Stable. Smart. Highly recommended by my boss. Crappy camera.

Moving on.

 

Cingular 8525. Operating system from the Devil. I am told that it is terribly unstable. And I may require special equipment to hold it up to my ear for more than a minute.

 

iPhone. Very, very sexy. I would probably break it standing inside the store. But as Schomer says, who knows what kind of camera is in there? And according to the rules above I couldn't buy it until Christmas at which point Apple will have had time to fix all the bugs that are certainly there (Yes, yes. Jaded. I said that.)

 

Nokia N95. Sexy and smart. 5 megapixel camera. It all appears to be in here. And it will be shipping in the US in a little under 2 weeks. Very, very expensive. But maybe this is the one. My true love. The love I can buy in relatively safety come May when the Dads 'N Grads promotions start to run.

 

What do you think? Have I missed something? Are you using the perfect phone? Please share. I need help.

Dear Long-haired Girl from the gym shower

It is a miracle you are not bald.

Twice a week I take a shower at the gym and even though there are eight shower stalls to choose from, it seems you have been to them all. Doing this. There is hair everywhere. Long, black, snake-like writhing hair. All over the walls of the shower. It's almost as if you are marking your territory.

Do you not see it?

Maybe it's my own personal OCD but I find myself not touching anything in the otherwise pristine shower. The only reason I'm still taking a shower at the gym is that there are two cutie-pie, long-haired girls ready to accost me as soon as I get home. I need a moment of solitude. With hot, hot water. Alone. Without you or any relic of yours.

The shower is my happy place. Here and the sauna that is right next door. I really do love the sauna. If you leave this kind of hair in the sauna I think you will start a fire.

So my long-haired friends, and I'm using that term loosely in a decidedly non-Vox way, what would it cost you to sweep that stuff down the drain? And if that is somehow wrong, Is there anything I can do to persuade you to take it with you? I can't believe you leave that junk in your own shower.

Oh and this? This is just gross.

 

Hair ball