I was metres from the doorstep of the Renault service centre yesterday when I realised I’d left my mobile phone at home.
Did you hear me cursing from your place?
(In case you missed the news, my car has required three oil top-ups in six months and the driver’s side window won’t open. It is less than two years old. FFS)
I briefly convinced myself I could last a whole day without my phone … before admitting that was total bull crapola and heading home to get it.
I mean, how would I post a cocktail on my work Instagram account at noon without it? #firstworldproblems
The service centre rang at lunch time to let me know the window needed a new part they didn’t have, but they’d order it in. The oil guzzling was next on their to-do list.
About an hour later I got another call to say they’d measured the oil in the car and it was at an appropriate level for a vehicle that had been topped up two months ago.
Well, yes, it would be because WHEN I MADE THE APPOINTMENT LAST WEEK THE RECEPTIONIST TOLD ME TO TOP IT UP AGAIN.
The receptionist was wrong.
I wasn’t supposed to do that. The car was meant to frantically flash its “low oil level” message at me for a week so the mechanics could recoil in horror at the discovery there was only a dribble of black stuff in the whatever you call the bit of the car the oil resides in.
Right. Got it.
Must remember not to take mechanical advice from the receptionist in the future.
Now I have to wait for all the oil to disappear again and make another appointment.
Well that was a big, fat waste of everyone’s time. And no drive-thru Maccas for me any time soon.
That’s what I get for wanting a car that matched my hair: Problems. Must remember not to base major purchasing decisions on duco colours in the future.
Have you ever bought a lemon of the non acidic variety?
Song of the day: Madness “Driving in my car”