Pid-pid

Did I say one headlight? It became two on my way to work yesterday. I scheduled an appointment with a different place because they could get me in this morning. I drove home with my high beams on last night.

I got up early, showered and got to the shop by 8 a.m..

Remember the other estimate I had? Ha ha. These guys said $180.

Yes, for two headlights.

So I leave my keys, thinking "what other options do I have?", and take a nap in the lounge.

They call me back over about ten before nine. Not much of a nap, eh?

The bill was only $160. Oh, joy. I took note of the rates they've posted on the wall, such as "labor -- $70 per hour" (high end for outer Boston), sign the bill and leave.

So I get gas, bother my friend Ron, get some groceries (forgot to get peanut butter) and got home.

My friend the Scoundrel hit the roof when I told him the price. "Three words, Better Buisness somethingerother," he said. My friend moominmolly concurred. I'm trying to figure out how they billed me for two units of labor when I wasn't there even an hour. How is that fair? Two guys had to work on it?

Events like this could turn me into a total redneck. Here I am, a pompous bastard, but not a man afraid to get dirty. I want to be able to do this low-level work myself, like I did with my parents' cars. I am not an old biddie. I may be swishy, but I've gotten beyond a lot of my wuss tendencies.

This car has made me neurotic and oblivious at the same time -- I have to ignore body work and other concerns because I cannot afford to have them fixed, but then I feel nervous and guilty. It's bad for my mental health to drive this VW.

Maybe I should become an auto mechanic. Then I'd learn something useful and be able to do my own work in a garage. I would get to work with my hands and have my brain free for problem-solving.

The money can't be that bad if they're billing me that much, eh?

-fighting off a throat cold, ps/d