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  • As World Turn

    So I get the family campster back today. I notice that the dealership kindly put gas into the new tank that was roughly equivalent to a large loogie, so I stop off at my local "Arm and a Leg" to fill 'er up.

    $45 later, and I'm about to pull back onto the main road when I notice two things:

    1. an intense reek of gasoline, as though I had spewed gas inside the van, and
    2. the gas gauge itself hasn't registered the proper amount inside the tank.

    So I call the dealership back and tell them the gauge isn't working. He said, drive for about 250 miles and then bring it back in on Monday, he can't look at it until then. I forget to mention the smell.

    Six miles later, the smell is so strong, I have all the windows open and I'm still about to pass out. I make it home, and a neighbor tells me to put something under the van and then run the van for about 20 minutes to see if it's leaking. I could only take 10 minutes because of the smell, but it didn't matter since the gas was dripping out of the tank like crazy.

    I call the dealership and tell them to pick up my van, and to do it before 7 pm. The tow truck arrives (I love them, too, btw) and the tow operator puts my van up on the truck. While the van is tipped forward, gas leaks out of the van so fast it's unbelievable. A quick check of the tank reveals that the fuel lines were not put on properly. In fact, one part was just hanging there.

    This, after the dealership representative told me he had his "top men" working on it. Top men, eh? As in Raiders of the Lost Ark "top men"?

    I'm so ticked off, I even said, "Feck!" in front of my kids. Actually, what I really said while I was jumping up and down like Yosemite Sam was, "Feckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeckfeck bugger!!"

    Stay tuned. I should be hearing from them tomorrow.


    Beav said...

    So, which tack are you going to take, a rational dressing down, or a shrill, "panicky", "I could have been blown to bits!"?

    Soo Mi said...

    Actually, I thought about the "...and my husband's a soldier--on the front lines--and this is how you treat his family..." tack.

    Seriously, all I want to say to them when I pick it up next time, is that one of them, one of those "top men," must drive my van around the block, maybe even 5 or 6 miles, I'm cool with that, because there is no way in hell I'm getting back into that van until every last one of those "top men" are convinced they've done their job properly.

    And if they turn on the A/C one more time, I'm gonna bust some ass.