Squirrelly Wrath

Don't take your car to the Aamco on Route 4 in Hamilton. Here's why, in a nut shell.

Mark took his new (to him) Durango in to have the engine looked at two and a half
weeks ago on Friday the ninth. After a whole week of "We'll know something tomorrow," they told him it needed a new engine and wanted an immediate answer. Mark mulled it over the weekend and decided to finance what couldn't be paid immediately. They did the credit check and said we had to sign some papers there. Mark said he'd come in to sign the papers this Saturday, after they finally got the engine in. He called on the way over, just after noon. The guy (the asshole guy who works in the office and looks like his massive fatness has grown around his desk chair) said they'd closed at noon, and no, he couldn't stop in to sign the papers. Fine. Mark went in this (Monday) morning to sign them, and his car was STILL sitting outside. I went with him, since we've been sharing my car for two and a half weeks at this point and I had to drop him off at work three hours early before I had to be at work. The shop had had the engine for three days at this point, though, granted, one of those days was Sunday. They told him they were "as we speak" moving cars around to get his Durango in the garage. They were doing no such thing when we walked in the office. I said very little the whole time, choosing instead to focus my rage into a spiteful stare at everyone in the office, one at a time, while they fed us yet another line about taking their time and wanting to do it right. I also tapped the car key I held in my left hand at a fast tempo. I was aware of the furious tic (there was nothing nervous about it) but physically unable to stop; if I'd stood motionless, I probably would have hurled pieces of decor at the mechanics due to the sheer momentum of my frustration.

Here's the kicker: after I picked him up from work tonight, we stopped by Aamco just to see if his car was still sitting outside. I didn't want to; I knew it would be there, and I didn't want to be angry all over again. But Mark talked me into it and, surprise, his car was exactly where we left it this morning.

They have now dicked around for two and a half weeks with his vehicle. Replacing an engine is a big undertaking; I've seen my dad do it, and even with having to round up all the proper equipment, it still took him less than a month. These guys, presumably, have done this sort of thing before, and given Dodge's reputation for engine meltdowns, they've probably done it on a Durango a few times over at least. The paperwork is signed for the financing, and so they are out of excuses, and yet his vehicle still sits outside the garage. When they knew they were getting the engine on Friday, they estimated that it would be done on Tuesday or Wednesday. Did they build this extra jack off time into their original estimation, I wonder? They should know how long it takes them to replace an engine; they should have been telling him from the start that it would take three weeks to get it done (the same amount of time I believe it took my dad to do it all by himself) - but then Mark never would have let them do the job to begin with. These people obviously have no concern for their reputation as mechanics, because neither of our vehicles will ever set tire on the Aamco parking lot after this fiasco is over, unless of course the new engine dies too and it has to have warranty work done.

I've been contemplating what I might say to them tomorrow morning when we go in to check on the status. My favorite so far is a wide-eyed, excited, "So it's done, right?" since it will be sitting outside as if that were the case. Except that it hasn't moved an inch.