"I left it at the dealership two days ago and have not heard back from you! So, Dude, where's my car?"
The insurance guy has probably never heard from Ashton Kutcher, but messing with his head was a temptation I could not resist.
(Then again, like Oscar Wilde, I can resist anything except temptation . . .)
To make a long story short, following last week's collision, this past Monday I left my little Silver Bullet at the dealership's body shop to get it fixed under my insurance plan. So far, everything seems to have gone peachy, except that I had not heard back from them to find out when will I get the little guy back.
Transportation has not been an issue. My insurance plan provides for a rental car -- in this case a blue Ford Taurus.
"A Ford Taurus?" Says ballistabob in disbelief. "When I had a collision they gave me a cool X-Terra!"
"Well," I say. "I reckon that since it was not your fault, you got the cool car. Since this time the collision was my fault, I get the Ford Taurus."
That should learn me not to run red lights.
(No offense to Ford Motor Co. They make some very cool cars. The Taurus, however, ain't it.)
(Although I must confess that it drives smoother than I expected and the gas mileage doesn't suck.)
But I miss my little Toyota Matrix.
I hope I can get it back today.