Daily Splatter: Bad Touch
According to legend, whatever King Midas touched turned to gold. On the contrary, whatever Midas Muffler in Lakewood, Ohio touches turns to shit.
Last week I went into Midas to replace the rusted-out muffler on my 1997 Saturn (yes, I'm a fancy man and I drive a fancy car). While I liked the crushing Harley Davidson sound it was making and enjoyed nothing more than pissing off my nosy neighbors (I'm talking to you, Bob), the noise level was beginning to make it difficult for me to fully enjoy the intricacies of my new Christina Aguilera CD.
Fortunately, Midas had actually replaced my original muffler three years ago and the repair was still under warranty. Well, the parts were under warranty. Well, one part was under warranty. The other parts were not. Neither was the labor. It also didn't escape my notice that these were the knuckleheads responsible for a repair job that had basically disintegrated in three years. Maybe it wasn't so fortunate after all.
If I had been driving a new or newer car, I would not have let these savages anywhere near it. But this is a nine-year-old car with 110,000 miles. I figure I'm making money every time it starts, so I'm only interested in doing enough to keep it on the road. There is no long-term plan for this vehicle other than the glue factory
Midas replaces the muffler, charges me about half of what it would cost to get it done somewhere else, and I leave relatively content. The next day I hear a noise coming from the rear passenger side wheel. Upon investigation (something akin to me walking around the car for 10 minutes, cursing it to eternal damnation, and then poking it with a stick), I figure out that the rear sway bar link (i.e., something that prevents me from dying a horrible, fiery death) is broken. In fact, it has recently been broken. I know this because the jagged edges of the cast iron are clean and still crumbling (up yours, CSI).
The sway bar link is a part that is right next to the muffler. A mechanic would have to be either blind or incompetent to miss a broken one while replacing a muffler. It is so close to the muffler that it could easily be damaged if, oh, I don't know, some greasy, in-bred goon was recklessly swinging a mallet to remove an old muffler.
Now I am forced to make a decision on principle: Do I confront these waterheads for either 1) knowingly damaging my car in order to solicit more business; or 2) being completely incompetent? Or do I set aside all logic and force myself to chalk it up to bad luck?
My desire to rage on their heinous fuckery is almost sexual, but I know it will bear no fruit. They will admit nothing, and I can prove nothing. Even if I made so much noise that they agreed to fix it, God only knows what other damage they would inflict.
I cannot win. They bent me over and I have to take it. I can only hope that it doesn't happen so often that I begin to like it.
Last week I went into Midas to replace the rusted-out muffler on my 1997 Saturn (yes, I'm a fancy man and I drive a fancy car). While I liked the crushing Harley Davidson sound it was making and enjoyed nothing more than pissing off my nosy neighbors (I'm talking to you, Bob), the noise level was beginning to make it difficult for me to fully enjoy the intricacies of my new Christina Aguilera CD.
Fortunately, Midas had actually replaced my original muffler three years ago and the repair was still under warranty. Well, the parts were under warranty. Well, one part was under warranty. The other parts were not. Neither was the labor. It also didn't escape my notice that these were the knuckleheads responsible for a repair job that had basically disintegrated in three years. Maybe it wasn't so fortunate after all.
If I had been driving a new or newer car, I would not have let these savages anywhere near it. But this is a nine-year-old car with 110,000 miles. I figure I'm making money every time it starts, so I'm only interested in doing enough to keep it on the road. There is no long-term plan for this vehicle other than the glue factory
Midas replaces the muffler, charges me about half of what it would cost to get it done somewhere else, and I leave relatively content. The next day I hear a noise coming from the rear passenger side wheel. Upon investigation (something akin to me walking around the car for 10 minutes, cursing it to eternal damnation, and then poking it with a stick), I figure out that the rear sway bar link (i.e., something that prevents me from dying a horrible, fiery death) is broken. In fact, it has recently been broken. I know this because the jagged edges of the cast iron are clean and still crumbling (up yours, CSI).
The sway bar link is a part that is right next to the muffler. A mechanic would have to be either blind or incompetent to miss a broken one while replacing a muffler. It is so close to the muffler that it could easily be damaged if, oh, I don't know, some greasy, in-bred goon was recklessly swinging a mallet to remove an old muffler.
Now I am forced to make a decision on principle: Do I confront these waterheads for either 1) knowingly damaging my car in order to solicit more business; or 2) being completely incompetent? Or do I set aside all logic and force myself to chalk it up to bad luck?
My desire to rage on their heinous fuckery is almost sexual, but I know it will bear no fruit. They will admit nothing, and I can prove nothing. Even if I made so much noise that they agreed to fix it, God only knows what other damage they would inflict.
I cannot win. They bent me over and I have to take it. I can only hope that it doesn't happen so often that I begin to like it.
Comments
um ok can we do lunch? my friend found your blog doing a "headhunter" search and you came up for a hit. I must say this is my favorite quote of the millenium, "My desire to rage on their heinous fuckery is almost sexual, but I know it will bear no fruit. " I am printing it out and posting it on my fridge....Thanks!
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