Getting the Car Serviced

Recently, I had to take my car into be serviced.  It was a wonderful early Christmas present: turn on the engine and the check engine light comes on; there's a strong smell of rich, burning gasoline, and a rough idle.   It reminded me a lot of what happens every spring with the motorcycle when the carburetor jets are clogged with last year's street sediment.  So, I knew that it was truly something wrong.

I also knew that there wasn't a dealership anywhere close by that I would trust to fix my subcompact Korean car.  Yup, I'm one of those.  It's a great car for me running around town, but I'm reminded how small it is every time my husband sits in the passenger seat and ends up chewing on his knees.  And I'm reminded how light weight it is every time it snows (wee... toboggan ride!)

Anyway, the two closest dealerships had proven unreliable:  the closest in Bloomington has a history of putting nails in people's cars and other sabotage to up-sell you on fixes you don't need.  That happened to my friends twice there, as well.  Then there's the dealership up on 394, but they were too dumb to be able to change a fuse in the 12V port that was blown...and during their investigations got grease all over the fabric on the interior.

So, where to go?

I decided to take a chance with a Ford dealership nearby.  I called and asked if they serviced my Korean car brand- they did.  They got me in quickly and their service area is fairly new.  All good things.

The shock was me walking into the Service Wait area.  It was like walking into a Ford commercial.  You know the one about being one of those rough and tumble kind of guys with big wheels and dirty cars?  They were all middle-aged men, over weight, chewing gum like it was cow cud, and wearing beer caps.  They all had some sort of jacket vest on.  All had blue jeans.  I saw two soccer moms in the corner- incredibly frumpy and most probably the owners of the two mini-vans I saw in the shop.  All looked at the blonde with her knitting and her tiny Asian subcompact among the mountains of gas-guzzling Ford hemis.

I think my IQ dropped about 20 points just walking in the door.

Let's say I was _slightly_ intimidated.  SLIGHTLY.  But, being the brave soul that I am, I sat down and took my knitting out and began my wait.

The sideways glances I got were...memorable.

I got up to get myself a cup of tea; being a breastfeeding mom, caffeine is still on the no-no list, so I'm used to drinking tea.

There wasn't any tea.

The choices were coffee and Pepsi products.  I found this to be such a striking indication of where I was that I almost laughed.  The Korean dealerships all have tea.  It's not fancy tea- it's usually gag-you-in-the-throat Lipton, but there's tea.  Ford people don't drink tea, I guess. I could just imagine these big guys sipping out of a delicate tea cup with their pinkies out.

Yeah right

Luckly, I was saved by my mother picking me up.

Now, just to be fair to Ford owners- this is just my experience at THIS dealership in semi-rural Minnesota.  You might own a Mustang and like your hair on fire.  I don't know.  I do know that the same clientele was present all three times I went to the dealership that day.

Regardless of my time warping experience into the stereotypes of Ford owners, I do have to say that there weren't greasy finger prints all over the car and that there weren't extra charges rung up, or other problems "found" with my car that day.

But I know I'll never own a Ford.