Chookah

A Lesson Not Learned the First Time

I know this lesson, yet I acquiesced and allowed Sebastian to pick his own flavor of ice cream, which I then wound up eating (some over-sweetened thing made even more disgusting with the addition of pop rocks)

And here he is, eating MY Daiquiri Ice ice cream cone.

Stinker.

The Season of the "Shakedown"

It began innocently enough in Mid-March, the far off tinkling of music, followed promptly by the frantic demands from a 5 year old, "MOM!  I need MONEY!!!" 

Huh?  I look up to see the dreaded ice cream truck roll into the hood, all the other kids on the street pouring out of their houses, precious dollars clenched in their fists.

"Please?  Please!  Puh-leeeezze!"

I go into the house, fumble in my purse and produce a $5, hand it off to the bouncing ball of boy-flesh who eagerly tears it out of my hand and in true superhero style, is off like a flash.  I follow at a leisurely pace thinking that I'll have to help him push through the crush of kids and order his diabetic coma-inducing treat.  No such problem, apparently I've instilled a strong enough sense of independence that he's totally beaten me to the punch.  I meet him at the curb, convince him to fork over the change and open his treat.

Due to massive inclement weather over the past couple of weeks the ice cream truck dude has been blissfully absent from our lives, until tonight.

Sebastian is tucked in bed when the familiar tinkle tinkle tinkle is heard about a mile away, Sebastian sits straight up in bed, "the ice cream truck!! Mom, I need ice cream."  I tell him, "No," that ice cream is off the menu as he has school tomorrow and has already brushed his teeth.

He collapses in tears.

In order to soothe his broken ego I promise that he can have ice cream the next time the beloved ice cream truck rolls through.  "But he might not be back tomorrow! waaaahhh!"

Freaking ice cream truck.  I'm all about capitalism and making a buck (or five!) where and how you can but 9pm is a bit late to be cruising the hood.

So, I signed myself up for a trip to the ice cream store tomorrow and Sebastian has already placed his order, "I want a double ice cream cone with Raspberry, Blueberry and Blackberry!"

Let the Shakedown continue....

Boys Will Be Boys

Or some such nonsense....

I came home tonight to an accident report from Sebastian's school.  Apparently he was a little rough with his friends.

We have a zero tolerance policy for hitting or physical altercations in our house, this includes throwing objects, slamming doors, throwing toys.  It's all a no-go.

After sitting down with Sebastian, he explained to me what he had done.  Not only did he throw a block at another child, cutting his upper eye but he hit another kid with a branch during outside play time!

Ugh.

So after explaining AGAIN what the rules are and no, I don't care who started it or who finished it and no I don't care how much the other kid deserved it and FINALLY breaking it down to the bottom line (he hurt his friends) I made Sebastian come up with his own punishment.

1) no TV
2) no dessert
3) write apology notes to his friends (he dictated, I wrote)
4) promise that he won't do it again

Completely fair, acceptable and implemented.

Update: I saw the little boy who took a block to the noggin.  He has a definite cut (no stitches, just superglue) and a bright purple bruise above his eyebrow.  I cringed when I saw it.  I also apologized PROFUSELY to his mother.  I'm so lucky that she was understanding about the situation (and not just because she's an attorney! Yikes!).

*sigh*

Toyota Tale of Woe (part 1,745,334 or something close to it)

Toyota Corporate Customer Experience can SUCK IT!

After the diagnosis came in, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I contacted Toyota Corporate and was issued a case manager and a case number.  I wait for a call and 36 hours after my initial contact (and follow up call) I'm bombarded with the similarities of trying to get help from the IRS.  Futile, stupid, pointless.

The initial call with the case manager results with a pat on the head.  What?  Yep.  "Sorry, there's nothing we can do." is the standard response. I swear she even read it from a canned customer service response database. Futile, stupid, pointless - rinse and repeat.

I take matters into my own hands.  As addicted to Twitter as I am I immediately find a couple of corporate stooges and bombard them with tweets.  I also find others who are looking for information on RAV4's and am generous with my opinion of the car and it's one specific mechanical fault.  I also find a message board filled with RAV4 enthusiasts and gearheads and plop myself firmly in their midst.  Still nothing (except support and "atta girl" from the gearheads).

Nothing comes from Twitter except more pats on the head and directing me to continue my one-sided conversation with the Toyota Corporate Case Manager.  Thanks Amy Taylor and Scott DeYager and Toyota! (that last part was dripping with sarcasm if you couldn't tell).

Then I get a call from the first dealer's insurance company.

This insurance agent asks me if I've contacted MY insurance company. "Why would I do that?" I ask.  "*Some* people like to get their insurance agents involved in cases like this where the entire amount of the damage may not be covered."  I'm in shock.  Seriously?  You expect MY insurance rates to go up because your client screwed up my car?  I whip out the two dreaded words, "attorney" and "court".  The conversation concludes shortly therafter.

I continue to spew the two dreaded words "attorney" and "court" in every conversation I have.  Not in the overtly threatening tone I would have used 6 years ago but more in a questioning tone, "I'm wondering if I need to bring my attorney up to speed on this issue..." and just let it hang.  I've been informed by the Corporate Stooge that the dealer's insurance will take care of everything, no need to contact my attorney, the Corporate Stooge assures me.

It's not an empty threat. I follow through with the fights I start. I have it on good authority that my attorney has been brought up to speed by my loving and doting father during their weekly phone calls.  My attorney is also somewhat idle at the moment (since the economy tanked) and is looking to stir some shit up.  It's good being a Hunt.  Did I mention the Hunt's have a thing for law school and Bar exams?

Only problem?  I still don't have my car.  Pushing 3 weeks on this one.  I've now made 2 car payments for a car I can't drive cause it's guts are ripped out and spread across various parts of a service bay in Salt Lake.

Word to the wise.  You are your own best customer service advocate!

Toyota Tale of Woe (part 4 - the Diagnosis)

This story is messed up.  MESSED UP.  This car is less than 3 years old.  I shouldn't have these kinds of problems.  I'm beyond frustrated.

Now that I got that out of my system  *uh..hum*

Toyota Tale of Woe - the continuing saga of a woman, hell bent on redemption through social media and being a general pain in the ASS because she feels she's been done wrong by some and you get to take the beating. I'm generous like that.

April 24th - car breaks down (again), towed to dealership.

April 28th - Dealership not quite sure about the full extent of the damage, will get back to me

April 30th - Diagnosis and pics come in from dealer in an email:

Service guy email: "Sunny, we've discovered the problem:blah blah Cam Shafts blah blah VVTI pieces blah blah Engine Block blah Damage blah Valves blah blah blah Pistons blah Timing chain under/over torqued blah Sheered off blah Gasket blah blah blah."

Oh.  Is that all?

Wanna see the inside of a fucked-up engine? Thought so (knew you were a closet gearhead)

   

 

I ask service guy, "So, when do you think I'll get my car back?"

*blink, blink* "um....."  It's at this point I realize that this time the damage is FAR more extensive than Round 1. 

In college I briefly dated a Bio-Engineering grad student whose job was harvesting corneas (I know, I know, I like the geeky guys).  He explained to me that after a body has all of it's organs donated it's lovingly referred to as a "canoe".  I shudder at the thought but there are distinct parallels I can draw between that image and the image of my car.

I start thinking about a replacement car.

Just when you thought the rant was done!  There's more!  Next Up: Toyota Corporate Customer Experience can SUCK IT

Toyota Tale of Woe (Bill #1)

In case you're wondering what it costs to put a new engine in a 2007 RAV4, I've included the bill below. (spoiler: it's $6,640 before taxes).

All this due to a faulty high-pressure oil hose.  A hose which costs $50 to replace if done proactively (like Toyota is currently doing on the Avalons and I believe, Camry's - two cars which have the SAME FAULTY HOSE).  Toyota, in their infinite wisdom, will not proactively replace or even inform customers that the hose has a defect.  It's a $6,640 damn shame.

I'm so pissed about the situation I'm going to leave the dealers name and address visible.  The dealer (who you will discover) did faulty work on my car - as documented by the dealer currently working on my car - resulting in a SECOND engine replacement (again, confirmed by the current dealer, little legal CYA maneuver on my part)

I'm no mechanical expert but when you see something like "Gear Assy" and "Short Block" and "Block Assy"  on an invoice you don't even have to look at the costs associated with the repairs before the service manager is reaching for the defibrillator.

This total doesn't account for the 2 1/2 week rental car which was another $1500, gas to and from Glenwood Springs or the 12 hours I spent driving to and from our fair neighboring state.

Toyota Tale of Woe (part 3 - Breakdown Redux)

On a bright and sunny day in late April I hopped in my rental and drove the 400 miles to Glenwood Springs, Colorado.  Not any solo road trip, mind you, I was a woman on a mission!  After 2 1/2 weeks my beloved 2007 RAV4 was fixed!

No more leaking hose, no more oil soaked engine and bad news.  It was all good! All fixed!  Brand new engine covered under warranty!

After a couple of potty breaks, surfing the radio for a non-country station that would stay audible for 50 miles and 6 hours later I arrived.

After dropping off the rental I walked the block to the dealership, hopped in and took off.

I noticed that my car sounded a little different but didn't think much of it, after all I hadn't driven it for a couple of weeks and was used to the sound of a different car.  

Luckily the weather was nice, I had my iPod/iPhone plugged in and was happy snapping pictures like this one behind the wheel like an asshole while belting out my favorite angry-chick music in the car:

(Yep I was that asshole who thinks it's a great idea to take pictures while driving)

6 hours, a crappy steak and $500 later (courtesy of ye ol' Liquor Barn in Grand Junction) I was home. Finally, I could close that chapter in my life, take the lessons and move on.

I carried on as normal for the next 5 days until I decided that I just didn't like the way the car sounded.  The engine was rough, not smooth sounding and was sounding more and more like a diesel.  I made an appointment to take it in on Saturday to have it checked out with reasoning that I'd rather pay $50 to have the guys at the dealership laugh at me and tell me I'm crazy than risk another breakdown.

I didn't make it.

On Friday night on my way home from work, I put my foot on the accelerator and the only response I got was a dashboard full of lights.  I simultaneously fumbled for the hazard lights (which are on the passenger side of the dashboard... NOT convenient placement), got honked at several times, dodged a couple of SUV's and made it to the side of the freeway.

Fuck.  Here we go again.

Stay tuned, the battle rages on!  (Part 4 - the Diagnosis)

Toyota Tale of Woe (Part 2 - Gratitude)

So there we were, 500 miles from home, in a snowstorm, on April Fool's Day no less.

The Universe would have it's way.  All signs said "stop" and that's what happened.

Luckily we were able to spend the night in a condo in the Arrowhead section of Beaver Creek ski resort.

I'm convinced that there was a reason the Universe didn't want us to go home that day and I learned my lesson the hard way.

The lessons in Gratitude I took from this adventure are the following:

• we were safe and no one was hurt
• we didn't have to drive any further in the snowstorm
• we had people looking out for us who could arrange lodging and transportation
• my car is under warranty and the breakdown was covered 
• I had the foresight to pay the extra $2/mo for roadside assistance (I strongly recommend getting it) 
• Beaver Creek has a Ritz Carleton and a Spago restaurant with an award-winning bartender and great somalier (hey, when in Rome!)
• I have understanding and patient co-workers who managed to talk me off the ledge when I so clearly was launching myself over it

In retrospect, I've been taking a lot of things for granted lately.  This breakdown sucks (I say that in the present tense because the adventure isn't over yet, over a month later) but the lemonade that comes out of the other side of this shitty situation is that I got a rather abrupt attitude adjustment.

I try to remember the things I'm grateful for every day.  I don't always succeed but I'm trying.

Toyota Tale of Woe (Part 1 - the Breakdown)

By now you've figured out that I'm without "Strong Bot" (AKA 2007 RAV4).  I've recounted the story numerous times to others, now it's time to capture it in words.

Part 1, the Breakdown:

In late March a couple of co-workers and I set out for lovely Keystone, Colorado for a trade show. I was the only one with a 4WD so we took my car. An 8 hour drive later and gorgeous weather later we were there. 

Keystone is a cute town but a town I seriously doubt ever reaches above freezing, like EVER. When I say that Keystone is cold I'm talking about the kind of cold that simultaneously stops you in your tracks, sucks the air out of your lungs and gives you frostbite. Ugh, I was not happy about going outside for any reason.

The day of our departure it was snowy.  I-70 was snow-packed with a fresh 3-4" of snow and the flakes just wouldn't stop falling.  I'm used to driving in snow but I'm not used to driving 70mph on twisting, turning mountain roads like some of the Colorado natives who flew past me.  Semi trucks WITH chains and professional drivers were being towed on the opposite side of the Interstate, that's how bad the roads sucked. I wasn't a fan.

White-knuckling it down the Interstate somewhere past Vail we were all a little nervous in the car, no rockin road trip music, no sipping of water, nothing that would distract me and nothing that would cause me to remove even a single finger from the wheel. I didn't pay attention to the conversation going on in the car but apparently there was some talk of pulling off the Interstate and staying the night in Avon. 

About 5 miles outside of Avon I heard a strange sound, kind of like fan blades hitting a metal housing.  I leaned forward towards the wheel and asked, "Do you guys hear that?".  My heart sank and my stomach twisted in knots.  "Please not here, please let us get home, please, please, please," I thought to myself.

We pulled off the Interstate in Avon and into a gas station.  I popped the hood and a little wisp of smoke blew off the engine. "Shit, that is so not good."  I got on my knees and looked under the car.  Drip, drip, drip... dark fluid was coloring the snow.  My areas of expertise don't include combustion engines but even I know that ANY kind of fluid dripping from your car is a recipe for disaster.  Especially when you're 500 miles from home.

We managed to find an automotive repair shop about 2 miles away and the news was not good.  A high-pressure oil hose ruptured, dumped all the oil so fast that there wasn't enough time for the engine to do me the kind favor of lighting up some kind of indicator on the dash.  The engine, while it hadn't yet seized, c'est fini.

Fuck.

So, the car was towed 50 miles away to the Toyota dealership in Glenwood Springs and we spent the night in Avon.  

I was 500 miles from home, had a seriously messed up car on my hands, I was cold, I was trying to be cool about the whole thing.  I didn't pull it off.

Stay tuned for Part 2 - Gratitude...

Presto Chango!

How to do you change this:

To this:

Back to this:

And then to this:

It's a not-so-funny story that I'm not quite willing to tell yet. I haven't performed my final magic trick and changed this lovely, gutless, Corolla back into the RAV4 that I've come to love. 

Sufficed to say that it's a tale of a known (but not by me) mechanical defect, a blizzard, finding my gratitude and then so fully immersing myself in frustration that I find myself swilling beer and evangalizing on Twitter, message boards and Facebook.

Social media be my sword and help me correct a wrong that has inadvertently found me.

More to come...