Wednesday, September 15, 2004

"I don't care."

The Movie: The Fugitive, 1993 (Jeb Stuart and David Twohy, screenwriters; Andrew Davis, dir.)
Who says it: Tommy Lee Jones as Deputy U.S. Marshal Samuel Gerard
The context: Dr. Richard Kimble (Harrison Ford) has just told Gerard that he didn’t kill his wife.
How to use it: To forestall pointless excuses.

The car situation has just reached a whole new level of unacceptability. It's going over to Santa Monica Volkswagen today -- so says Bill, who so far has lied more often than I can count and has returned about one of every five calls I've made to him.

I also discovered yesterday that the insurance network representative who bungled the evaluation so badly was supposed to have been calling me every two or three days to give me updates on the repairs. I haven't talked to this man -- whose name is Dave Rodriguez and works for Progressive Insurance -- since August 17. I called him twice yesterday, and he didn't return either of those calls. (Some part of me doesn't blame him; at this point, I would not be returning my calls, either.)

The "last mechanical repairs" that Bill mentioned on Monday, as if they were minor, turn out to be the small matter of installing the new transmission -- which, loyal readers will remember, the nice guys at Santa Monica Volkswagen were ready to do on August 9, except that I let the Progressive guy talk me into moving it to their shop.

This winter, in Maine, I'm taking a course in automotive repair. I should have done it years ago. Part of my frustration throughout this process is that I don't even have the vocabulary to talk with these people. It's especially hard, when I'm used to being such an insufferable know-it-all about everything else.

And as to the big question -- when the car will actually be fixed -- I have no idea. NO idea. The Volkswagen guys are supposed to call me this afternoon. They, at least, are good about keeping customers informed.

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