The Burrow

My car gives me too much information.  It tells me how many miles per gallon I'm getting as I'm tooling along and I find it incredibly distracting.  I could change the display to tell me how many miles I have until the gas tank is empty, or to count out the miles on my second trip, but it's all annoying. Not as annoying as the fact that the trunk locks automatically and I have to remember to press the button three times to release my groceries, but real close. With alarming regularity, it decides that my rear tail light is malfunctioning.  This is a difficult issue to address if you are alone.  I am always alone in my car.  The service manager didn't mention it to me at my last check up, so I've decided not to worry about it. As G'ma advised, if you hear a noise in the car, turn up the radio.  Still hear it?  Turn the music louder. So, when the dashboard announced that The Schnozz was suffering from low air pressure in the tires, I sh...

The Schnozz needed a check-up.  The little plastic square in the top corner of the front windshield reminded me.  The digital exclamation point on the dashboard reminded me. The new dealership, ten miles closer to my house, had sent me a slew of coupons. So, I called to make an appointment. Close to home might not be the only criterion for choosing a dealership. The girl who answered the phone was lovely.  Incompetent, poorly trained, unable to help me, but lovely all the same.  I couldn't be angry with her inability to schedule an appointment for me, or to find out what service had been done the last time I was in, or to tell me what service was recommended. She had only begun working last for the dealership last week.  Poor baby, she'd been put on the phones without training or education.  It was hardly her fault that she couldn't help me. I give her credit for recognizing the dilemma and seeking assistance.  Andrew, one of the Assistant Servic...