I have to relate this story, it' something my therapist has told me to do.
I was out and about, and I noticed a quick change oil change place and
decided that after I get my nails done to have the oil and filter changed in
Emma, who has been through a lot lately. Emma is a 77 mgb.
So I stopped in one, an acne faced young guy came right out and said "we
don't have the filter for this car".
I happened to know that he did, but I forgot the cross reference number,
however being both a scot and english, I just looked at him and said "I have
one in the trunk".
then he said, "well, let me see if one of the guys wants to do it, these are
very breakable you know".
my hand automatically moved the shifter into reverse, and I told him to
forget it I go somewhere else. I am not good with quick retorts, like "yes
it would take some intelligence to find the drain plug", or whatever, maybe
that is a positive point to my character.
this was a nation-wide chain by the way.
so 2 blocks down was an other one, a 'grease monkey'. this time I was
greeted by a woman who took down my info and I waited inside.
they seemed to be going real slow, a big cadillac was stuck in the 3rd bay.
they were changing the transmission oil and charging the AC. the guy doing
it had some problem, then it wouldn't start. This made me real cautious.
I started thinking about how they could mess up Emma. and I got up and
walked over to the woman, who had by now moved emma inexpertley a few times,
and eventually got the hand of the manual shift.
I told her to tell the guys not to do anything with the transmission. that
is is english, it has an overdrive and it takes engine oil and not to touch
it.
I was told that all transmissions take transmission fluid. And the usual
male inference that "I'm the mechanic, your just a woman", I looked at him
in the eye and told him that it was an english LH overdrive transmission and
it takes engine oil, and he might look it up. They agreed not to touch it.
by now Emma was giving me those looks that you get when you leave your cat
at the vet and your almost out the door.
after another 25 minutes, the car in bay 1 wouldn't start. A woman happened
to own it and the mechanic came out and said, "did you know you had a
problem with your engine ? it won't start." I listened to this dialog, then
got up and told them that I'd come back another time and drove off.
I have no idea how many cars english or otherwise have died at places like
this. Their clientele seemed to have those personality-less japanese cars
and lots of chrylser products.
I don't know if it's better in the UK or Oz, but it pretty sobering overall.
thanks, Diane.
|