The story begins with my car desperately needing new tires. About six months ago, I noticed my tread was looking dangerously scarce, so I began shopping around for tires on sale that would fit my car. Only about three weeks had passed since I needed my battery replaced, so I was really hoping to make this a quick repair. The tires were purchased, and a date was selected for me to drop my car off to have them changed. That day, I happened to be working at one of the farthest locations I go to each week, plus it's one of the most miserable stores to be in. After a long day in this hideous wasteland that some call 'Trashfield', or as I like to call it 'Shattlefield' (that's as if you shat on Battlefield...see what I did there? Genius, I know), I was more than ready to hop in my car and drop it off at the station for the evening. Then it happened...nothing. I turn the key in the ignition, and the engine didn't even try to start. With a brand new battery, I'm thinking only the worst: whatever is wrong, it's going to cost much more than a battery. F*cking awesome. As it turned out, I had a defective battery installed, so it was replaced for free under warranty. It doesn't have a major factor in the rest of the story, so I might as well clear that up now.
"Party on, Garth!"
"I guess......not..."
At this point, I've hit my bullshit threshold for the day. I'm tired, extremely irritated and not looking forward to dishing out more money that I hadn't previously planned on spending. So I call up the station and explain the situation to them, and they said there was a towing company they sub out to that would come pick the car up shortly. In less than a half hour, the truck arrived and a bit of relief set in. A very tiny, minuscule amount of relief. The truck's driver door opens, and this is where the fun really begins.
Out steps this guy who was probably pushing eighty years old. This dude was something straight out of Deliverance. He was wearing overalls, not coveralls, and for those who don't know the difference, here it is:
- Coveralls cover all...pretty much a full body suit. Picture your average suburban mechanic or any NASCAR driver.
- Overalls don't have sleeves. They are basically exaggerated jeans attached to a denim apron, held up by shoulder straps. Picture a redneck mechanic or any NASCAR fan.
Similar, but much older and much dirtier.
"It's poop again!" Yea, that guy.
So he does his thing and gets my car hooked up, which I can't really say whether or not he was doing a good or bad job, mostly because I personally don't know how to do that, so I cast my judgment aside. Again, he's trying to make small talk, but it sounded like he had a mouth full of grits, so hardly any of it made sense. I'm just praying that Father Time would get my car from A to B without incident. So he starts driving from Shattlefield and proceeds to merge onto the interstate, and it's no longer going downhill, it has now plunged off a cliff.
About five to ten minutes into the drive, his cell phone beeps, and without hesitation, he reads the text sent to him. If you don't already see where this is going, you haven't been driving lately; lately as in the past five-plus years. He begins to reply with a text. Need I remind you he is not simply driving one vehicle while dangerously breaking a law, but rather he is also responsible for the car that is hooked up to his truck. It's bad enough when these imbeciles in their own cars are swerving and casually regaining control because they can't wait five minutes to text someone; this guy is bold enough to do it while using my car as multi-car-wreck bait. The first text wasn't very long (not to make an excuse for the guy, believe me), so I simply cleared my throat loudly as to alert him that I was watching him the whole time. That's right, I did say first text. The second one he received as we were exiting one interstate on the ramp leading to the next one. He decides to text another reply, this one taking considerably longer. As he is tapping away with his thumb, he drifts into the lane he was going to eventually merge on to, and he does so right in front of some poor lady in a minivan. I asked, "Are you sure you want to be doing that right now?" which broke his text-trance, causing a jerk-reaction to correct his direction, partially swinging my car into oncoming traffic. He damn near hit other cars with my car as the weapon. The rest of the ride went without incident, thankfully.
I'm definitely not ready to meet him yet.
We arrived at the station about thirty minutes after he picked me up, and I'm just about ready to explode from the rage brewing inside of me. I explained to the mechanic what happened and that it will be reported to the Better Business Bureau (BBB), regardless of what could be done to make up for the inconvenience. The mechanic told me that because they subcontract this towing company, they were not responsible for the drivers, but he was more than willing to contact the owner, Dale Old himself, and see what could be done. A call was placed, the mechanic was then directed to Mr. Old, and then the situation was described to him in great detail. That's when the mechanic's jaw dropped and then asked, "...well what do I tell my customer? He's extremely irritated at the situation." A few seconds later, his face showed even greater disbelief as he wide-eyed the phone while hanging up. He then tells me that Dale Old said, "Tell your customer I apologize, and that it'll never happen again..." right before he hung up on the mechanic.
This is a re-enactment. The guy was younger and on a corded phone.
Needless to say, the BBB was notified within moments of arriving home, yet after a few days of review, they determined there wasn't enough in my claim to proceed with any action against the company. I also know taking them to small claims court would do nothing but waste my own time and money, both of which I have little of to begin with. So as it stands, nothing came of it. I assure you that anyone that ever brings up getting towed in this area, they'll be told about my horrible experience and encouraged to call anyone else that's available to tow. Sure enough, after doing a little research on customer reviews, they already have a pretty poor reputation that includes several stories of added damage to an already disabled vehicle. For once, I can say this kind of crap doesn't only happen to me.
Take my advice: the next time your car breaks down, before you even call for a tow, get your smart phone out, google some nearby towing companies, and read their reviews for a few minutes before you allow them to bring your only source of transportation safely to be repaired. You might avoid running into the debacle I was in. At the very least, you won't have to worry about Old Man Jenkins doing it.
D.
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