(Previously on Space Monkey Pants: a teaser.)

To begin with, my holiday Monday went straight in the crapper due to Sunday.

Specifically, due to me taking the car into Canadian Tire on Sunday to get winter tires put on.

Even more specifically — specificallier, if you so wish — due to me taking the car into Canadian Tire on Sunday to get winter tires put on and then getting a call from them 20 minutes later with the informational tidbit that the car’s lock nut key was missing.

Soooo… I head back to Canadian Tire, tear the car apart — in the process discovering 62 napkins, 6 pens, and a yo-yo — that yes, they were correct, the car was indeed minus one lock nut key.

Hence, no winter tires on Sunday.

Monday morning arrives. I greet it, welcome it into our home, thank it for tacking the word “holiday” to its front end, offer it omelets and toast, and then we’re off to the races.

The really agonizingly slow races.

I give the Suzuki dealership a call and say, “Hey, Suzuki Dealership! How’s it hanging? Remember way back in the summer when we got the tires replaced? Yeah! Then! Well, our lock nut key is gone! Vamoosed! Scrammed! Gone the way of the dodo! Taken the one-way train to Off-This-Mortal-Coil! Yeah… yeah… ok. Well, anyways, can you take care of this today. Yeah? Cool! Oh, and by the way, while I’m bringing it in, can you check the emergency brake light? It keeps turning on at random moments. Yeah? Cooler! Oh, one more thing. Our key remotes seemed to have run out of juice. Can you get those running again? Awesome! What time? 1:30? I’ll be there!”

And off I go to the Suzuki dealership with a spring in my step and the emergency brake light shining like a beacon.

I get to the dealership, describe the problems, and am told it should be about 40 minutes. I hand them the keys and off I go to pee, grab a coffee, and read some more of a sci-fi classic.

30 minutes later I get the call.

The brakes are shot. Brake shoes worn and rusting. The keys are just fine. It’s the wiring in the car that is busted. They don’t have the lock nut key. We need to get a whole new lock nut set installed.

Total cost = $325.

Total extra time = two hours.

Total amount of time spent lazing on the couch with My Lovely Wife = nada.

So… I get another coffee, read some more, wait some more, pee, wait some more, pee again, read some more, pee yet again (seriously now, this is a whole lot of peeing going on here)… and finally, I get the word that they are… sort of done.

The brakes are fixed. Costly, but fixed. The lock nuts are installed. The keyless remote… not so much.

It seems they RAN OUT OF TIME TO FIX IT. I now need to bring the car in on FRIDAY. FOR THE ENTIRE DAY. It seems they need to take the door off, open it up, and CHECK EVERY SINGLE CONNECTION. THEY HAVE BLOCKED OFF EIGHT HOURS TO FIX IT.

Mega-sigh.

So I pay the money that I was not expecting to pay to repair the brakes and have the lock nuts installed, retrieve my still-not-working keys, head out to the car, get in the car — after going through the bother of unlocking it by actually sticking the key in the lock LIKE A SUCKER — put the key in the ignition, put the car into Drive, and then… a thought makes me pause.

The pausing thought says to me, “Before you go, you should figure out where they put the lock nut key so when you go back to Canadian Tire you can point to it and say, ‘AH-HA! THERE’S YOUR BLASTED LOCK NUT KEY!’”

So I look in the cup holder, where they said they would put it.

No lock nut key.

I look in the glove compartment.

No lock nut key.

I look in every one of the nooks and crannies I had looked into the previous day, still finding the 62 napkins, 6 pens, and the same yo-yo as before, but…

No lock nut key.

Soooo… I turn the car off, head back into the dealership, and say, “Excuse me, but where did you put the lock nut key?”

The guy behind the counter leans back and says, “Joe, where did you put his lock nut key?”

And Joe — the bastard — says, “Oh. Did you want me to install the lock nuts?”

Dogs were reported to have howled over a mile away at the sound of my sigh.

30 minutes later, with the JUST INSTALLED lock nut key clenched in my grubby little paw, I drive the car home.

And by then, the sun had set on my holiday Monday.

…

So I feel that the Cinnabons I picked up on the way home were PERFECTLY JUSTIFIED.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 14th, 2006 at 2:45 pm and is filed under grumble, me. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.