This morning I took my car to the VW dealer to start the $800 in repairs that they told me were needed back in April. Of course I have this weird unsubstantiated need to keep a roof over my head and food in my cat's bowl so I can only authorize $400 in repairs. The guy behind the counter was very understanding when he also told me that I was due for a new set of tires. So tack on another $300 for that. Stupid, stupid car. I actually knew before hand that I need new tires but still....stupid, stupid car.
The real adventure started when I boarded the dealer provided shuttle that would take me to work. The driver was a shady looking character. He was a tweaker at one point in his life I can feel it. He has the skin that sags making him look older than he really is, the raspy voice from years of freebasing and that twitchy can't hold still body language. I hesitate before climbing in, as I would like to demand a piss test before I let this guy take me anywhere. But I have already been at this place for 45 minutes, I throw caution to the wind and flop myself in the very back of the van. Its decided that the most efficient way to deliver the van load of people is to start at the opposite end of town from my office, leaving me to be the last person in the van. Freaking Great.
I hate situations like this. I never know what to say to strangers. Its like being on an airplane. The only thing that you have in common with the person sitting next to you is that you are, well, sitting next to them. How do you break the ice? "So you have a VW. Did you know that Hitler created the Volkswagen Company?" I choose to say nothing and look out the window.
Upon pulling out the the dealer's driveway the first thing I notice is that our driver is a tail gaiter. I loathe tail gaiters. Its bad enough when you are the one being tail gated but being a passenger when the driver is tailgating is worse. Generally I would offer driving tips in a situation like this. As I know mister crack head would benefit from my perfect driving record (the first person to utter "back seat driver" gets bitch slapped). Since I am in the very back of the van, yelling over the heads of three people might be misinterpreted as rude. Again I choose to keep my mouth shut and stare out the window while I grip my arm rest so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Crack Head weaves in and out of morning traffic. Eventually every one is delivered to their respective office buildings. Now we can start the LONG journey to my office. I am alone with Crack Head....he does not attempt conversation which is smart on his part as I am poised with my pepper spray if he even so much as reaches for his stash that I am sure is hidden somewhere in the van.
Crack Head is a man on a mission he tail gates more and cuts people off with every lane change. All I want to do is apologize to the poor motorists that are subjected to this guy. If not for me he would be miles away cooking rock on a spoon. Instead here he is driving me to work because of my stupid, stupid car. Finally Crack Head drops me at my office and I stumble in the front door. I am thrilled its Friday and I am looking forward to the weekend. Lets hope that I make it through this weekend and not die of heat stroke. Its like 102 in Sac right now.