Karbon Kounty Moos

Way back when, in November - I posted about an
adventure on the road.

We had started out with the 2WD pickup because our newer 4WD pickup was in the shop. It had been towed in, because the Baron was sure that he had blown the engine. I don’t even want to get into the night that that happened.

After the mechanics had checked out the pickup, the service manager called. He told my husband that the pickup needed a new head. The Baron said that he thought that it needed an new engine, but if they only needed to replace a head, shouldn’t they replace them both? So they ordered the heads. Later, we were told that the heads they received weren’t any good. One of the mechanics said that he wouldn’t have put them in the back of a wagon. They ordered the heads again - hopefully from a better vendor. At this point it was December and we were in the hospital for the first time. After we got home, we went to get the pickup - to the tune of eighteen hundred dollars. The Baron drove it home and parked it in the garage. Which is where it stayed for most of the winter. We were in the hospital more than home, and I was using the car when I was driving. I did use the pickup a few nights when we were home during calving. I drove down the lane to check on the cows and then back home.

In March, I took the pickup to Billings to buy some salt and mineral. It was the first time I’d driven it for more than a couple of miles. I thought that it sounded terrible. Once I hit the interstate the “check engine” light went on.
OH NO!
I made it to West Feeds and picked up my load. I immediately headed home. The light didn’t come back on, the pickup sounded like it was going to blow up, but it never did get hot. It was after five by the time I got home, so I waited until the following morning to call the garage.

I spoke with a woman in service and explained the situation. The first thing she said was that it had been repaired in December and this was March. I reminded her that the pickup had hardly been driven. She called back later and told me to bring it in when I could. I obviously was not able to do that at that time. A few days after the funeral I brought it in. I came home to a message after bringing my brother to the airport. It seems that the pickup now needed a new engine, but since they had worked on it in December, they were going to do something about the cost. I sighed and called the garage.

The woman in service told me that Mr. Goodwrench had told the Sugar Beet Baron in November that the pickup might need a new engine. He said that the heads were not guaranteed, and that my husband had wanted to take the less expensive route. Excuse me? It had been a telephone call, and I was in the room when the Baron spoke with Goodwrench. Anyone who dealt with my husband knows that if something needed to be done, it got done. He had thought the engine was blown in the first place. To say that the woman I was speaking with realized that I was not happy would be an understatement. I was furious. Not because I needed an engine now - but the insinuation that the Baron was trying to get away cheap blew me away. She told me that she would talk to Mr. Goodwrench.

The next call I received was from Mrs. Goodwrench - who also works there. She explained the entire situation to me again. I explained the situation to her. She told me that she’s been married to her husband for thirty years and he never lies. Hmmm. . . he also never called me back, but sicced his wife on me. I said, “Oh and I was only married to my husband for eleven years, so he’s the liar? This sounds like: he said, he said and he’s dead - so tell me who’s going to win here?” Then she began to explain about blow back and rings. I told her that I had to talk to someone and I’d call her back. After two conferences I decided that I’d only be spiting myself if I got the pickup repaired somewhere else. I called Mrs. Goodwrench back and told her to have them go ahead and put in the engine. Oh, she had a deal for me on the short block. You wouldn’t believe all the money that I’m saving. Then the “original woman from service” called back and told me that the shortblock had been discontinued. For crying out loud - get an engine and put the thing in.

A few days later, I received another message. While they had the engine out they discovered that I needed a new clutch. But since they had the engine out it was going to save hours of labor. I called back and told them to just put the clutch in, too.

On Wednesday, “original service woman” called. The pickup had been ready since Friday, and the mechanics asked her if she had ever called me. Uh, no. As a matter of fact, on Tuesday, I had a friend bring my bulls home - because I didn’t have the pickup to haul the gooseneck. I told her that I’d pick it up on Thursday.

Thursday morning, a friend drove me to the garage. I didn’t see “the service woman” or either of the Goodwrenches. I paid a guy I’d never seen before and got my keys. The pickup was parked on the street and I started it up. Hmmmmm. . . that’s funny, there’s no fuel in the tank. I switched tanks. Empty, too. I am obsessive about fuel. I always fill my vehicles before leaving home. I pay for bulk fuel, so I never have to buy gas at a station, unless I’m on an extended trip. Okay, so someone siphoned both my tanks while the pickup was parked on the street.

I went back inside and told “the guy”. He said, “We didn’t steal your gas.” I said, “I didn’t say that you stole my gas, I said that someone stole my gas. I don’t know why that’s unusual. ‘The service woman’ told me that the pickup had been ready since Friday, but she forgot to call me.” The guy looked right at me and said, “It was not ready on Friday.” I said, “Then why did she leave me that message?” He said, “It was not ready on Friday, they had other things that needed to be done to it.” I handed him the keys at that point. I went back in the garage and talked to the mechanics, who informed me that yes, it had been ready on Friday. Why were we arguing that point? It was now Thursday and the pickup had been sitting there for more than a few days. “The guy” came back and handed me my keys. He had filled both tanks.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 29th, 2006 at 11:34 pm and is filed under Montana, bad luck. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.