OK, Maybe I Was Wrong

Sometimes you get lucky. My last post whined about having to get our car repaired and being sure that things would go badly -- well, actually I laid out how things had already gone badly and predicting more of the same.

Reality however was modestly different.

Insurance-approved car repair facility, Rainbow Car Repairs, called on Monday. A day sooner than I'd really expected. They said, "It will take a week to get you an estimate if you want to take the car to the shop nearest your house." (They have two shops, I find out.)

"Can't do a week. Selling car. Moving. What's Plan C?" I ask.

"The problem is we have no drivers to come get your car. If you could drive it there, then we could estimate it today and get the repairs started."

"Fabulous ...," I start.

"... but we don't have any loaner cars to give you."

"Have to have loaner car. Can't do a week. Selling car. Moving. What's Plan D?" I ask.

"If you bring it to our other shop, we have a loaner car we can give you."

"Where's your shop."

"Farnborough. Where are you?"

"Camberley," I answer.

"Ten minutes away," says she.

"See you in ten minutes," says I.

Just as a quick check, I Google Rainbow. Among customer comments about shop, "Slow. Never done when they say. Never call you; you always have to follow up yourself." I put into my head the appropriate set of expectations for what I'm going to find and head toward shop. Thanks to Fiona, my ever patient sat-nav, I go easily to the shop ... more like five minutes away than ten, actually. That's a miracle when it comes to UK driving.

Waiting for receptionist to come back from lunch, I hear an American accent talking to another waiting customer, "Long commute. Hour each way. Beautiful place. Hot though."

"Where are you from?" I ask.

He answers, "Houston, Texas."

I say, "Oh, my land, I'm moving there in two weeks."

He says, "Want to buy a house?"

"Tell me about it."

"Conroe, Texas. 3400 square feet. In River-something country club. Lake near by. Good golf course. Built home myself in 2001. [Yada. Yada. Yada.] $295,000."

Email addresses are exchanged. Hands are shaked (shaken?).

By then the receptionist is back. Shows me my loaner car. Dark blue VW Polo POS, but OK for what I need it for. Golf clubs will (apparently) fit in back. I sign pieces of paper that say, short of direct asteroid impact, any thing bad happens to the car, I have to pay.

Estimator comes out, looks at my car. "Hummm."

I say, "Selling car. Moving. Got to hurry."

He says, "Depends on parts. How about early next week." That's about a week better than I was expecting.

I'm off in my POS with suitable expectations, but, for now, maybe, possibly, I'm going to scrape by. Stay tuned.