If you know me well, you know I drive a Jetta. “Jasmine Jetta,” as we all call her. On a happy day, a day with the sunroof down or en route to a favorite coffee shop or boston spot, my friends and I call her by her name of jasmine, or jaz, even jazzy. On days where she is acting up, driving poorly, and exhibiting stereotypical “volkswagen electrical” problems, i call her “Jenna.” The name Jenna was contributed by my dear friend marlene, (half of matt and marlene – my witty, harsh and always adorable manhattan transplants in seattle who would take me in as their permanent 3rd wheel in the years we lived in the emerald city together). Though Matt and Marlene’s young love turned into one of the coolest most solid marriages in which I only know them to exist within, there was apparently a year in which Marlene suffered heartbreak from her future husband due to “a total b*tch named Jenna”. [Apologies to any Jenna out there who is innocently reading my blog ]. Thus, when Jasmine is acting up, causing me money and being a little biOtch, Marlene decided over 5 years ago we’d call her Jenna.
To this day, Marlene says I should’ve driven her into Lake Union when I had the chance.
The last few months Jasmine has been a reaaaaal Jenna. One thing after another, and while somewhat legitimate, this last “issue” was infuriating to me. I had just paid close to $500 for a new O2 censor. Apparently our cars not only have these but apparently they’re important. In order to be able to stop lying to my dad that "the car is running fine" get the check engine light to go off, i had to get this fixed.
I get my car back with this fresh new charge to my mastercard and as i am driving her home on goes a bright little light on my console signaling a door is open.
Huh? How could a door be open? I pull over, put the car in park, and walk around checking the doors. It is when I am walking behind her that I hear a seemingly possessed trunk latch opening and closing – going back and forth, back and forth.
I unlock the trunk, slam it shut and get back into the car– light is off on the console. Phew.
I put the car in drive, pull into the road, and then I hear it pop open again, console light goes on, cue the latch symphony in the trunk, this time with extra gusto.
I would spend about 4 days with Jasmine Jenna in which I’d turn the car off and there goes the trunk, turn it on and there goes the trunk, drive down the highway and there goes the trunk. It is not as though the trunk is flying up, blocking my vision out the back window, but the rather the latch is electrically misfiring, causing it to come open ever so slightly to 1) have a door open light go on in the console 2) not allow me to keep a laptop locked safely when I go to the gym 3) turn a light on inside the trunk, causing my battery to wear out the single night I forgot to double check this stubborn latch (yes, this happened). Many hysterical A few tears + some jumper cables later and I had to take myself back to the dealership with little miss Jenna.
Oh The Dealership. Not a local, born and bred boston mechanic with bones of integrity, but a volkswagon dealership with the authenticity and the honesty of that beetlegeuise wedding scene in which Wynona Ryder is totally not cool with it.
I explain the problem. Explain I was just here. Explain the latch fires if the car is turned on or turned off. I talk for 10 minutes articulating details. I hand over the keys and get a ride to work. A few hours later I get a call actually telling me the following:
Dealership: Your trunk was open when you gave us the car so we think maybe you’re just not shutting it all the way.
I GAVE you the keys. I told you the trunk would open when you turned the car on. I watched one of your guys get IN my car and turn it on. That is obviously when the trunk opened.
Imbisil on other line: Oh okay – yeah, yeah that explains it.
Me: how does that explain it? if you think i didn't shut my trunk how do i know you really looked at my car.
Idiot Liar on other line: Well yeah you’re going to need a new latch.
Me: Why do I need a new latch? It’s not about the trunk not closing all the way – it is something electrical. And this JUST happened when I got my car back – can I speak to the service manager.
Service manager gets on the phone.
Hi Claire – let me help you understand a little better that the latch has an electrical component, so yours is not faulty in that it doesn’t click shut, its fault is in the electrical component.
[ okay. Sounds believable enough, right?]
I'm very sorry for this coincidence with the O2 censor, but we need to order this new part. So if you'd kindly come back and pick up your car, we will only charge you for the new latch and that labor, not today, so your charge is going to be about $250.
I follow homeboy's rules, play CSI Miami all up in Jazz's grill every time i get out of the car to check her trunk. I return to the swindlers 5 days and one snow storm later, reluctantly pay for this new latch installment, and get on the road to get on with my life.
It happens. I'm not even through one song on the highway.
The trunk opens. Door light on the console goes on. Latch goes haywire.
My O-negative blood is boiling.
I can’t even make a phone call I am so pissed.
The following morning I’d call on the way to work. Speak to Sam – who is clearly both sides of the bread and the meat short of a ham sandwich. Sam actually has the cojones to tell me it could be “another problem,” in which i tell him i will be there in 30 minutes to speak in person. [props to the parental units for never letting us scream on the phone].
I stroll in. Frye boots. Wool peacoat and purple scarf, and with 2 customers behind me, 2 mechanics at the counter, Sam, and the service manager facing me. Service Mgr begins by saying there is no proof this latch didn't fix one part of the problem, and there could be something else. Calmly, with boldness, gumption and... i'm not gonna lie, perfectly timed delivery in every possible way, i proceeded to say the following:
Oh Really? Another problem. Really? I tend to think the problem is that i am a girl who drives a jetta. And if i had an appendage dangling between my two legs, my credit card wouldn't be in my hand right now and my trunk wouldn't be opening.
I was on fire. They (all but Sam, because he doesn't know what the word appendage means), stood there, gaping mouths. A mechanic actually started laughing. The fear of being reported to the better business bureou likely entered the manager's head. This girl isn't messing.
"Miss Wood. We may have been premature on the latch. We will do what we can today. This has nothing to do with the fact that you are a female."
And with that, and taking no chance in ruining my monologue, i ripped the car key off my key chain and walked out - waiting in the bitter cold for my ride, as my pride wouldn't allow me to wait in the warm office in which i'd just used a synonym for p***s.
To the car dealerships who try to take advantage of us.
And for the ladies who know it.
CW
editors note: As it turns out. This wasn't Jasmine's fault. It wasn't her latch. It wasn't her wiring. It was her key. apparently when a battery starts to go in the automatic keys, things can happen, like the trunk button permanently firing.
editors note #2: upon picking up my car, there was a note on my seat w/ a mechanic (who didn't work on jazz), writing me he'd never seen anything like that, and leaving his phone number. i haven't called him.
