I already told you how my '65 GTO came to be in the Tucson Pontiac dealer to have the rear end rebuilt...see "MamaCharlie learns to drive a stick". I won't repeat all that. But once all the dust settled, it got rebuilt and was ready to be picked up. I also mentioned the difficulty I had getting up to Tucson before everything closed...but we finally got it worked out, just barely, and I got the word it was done and I should pick it up right away. Couple days later I was able to work out schedules and rides so I could get to it. When I got there, I had to sign a bunch of papers and junk, they gave me the keys and I was ready to fly. The Goat was parked outside gathering dust...the doors were not locked...the chrome door lock doohickies were gone. I had installed a Hurst shifter (Pre T handles and Pistol grips) and it had a really neat white shifter knob...HAD...it was gone, too. A few other odds and ends were missing but the door locks and knob were all I was really concerned about. I went back inside and told them someone had lifted my stuff and they had to replace it. They pointed out to me the sign over the shop that said they were not responsible for cars left on the lot. I felt that they should be responsible since they left the durn thing unlocked...they disagreed...I recounted the difficulties involved in getting to Tucson from Ft Huachuca...they were not moved...I left the car there after it had been repaired so it was my problem. They were not responsible. Period.

There was a '66 GTO parked next to mine, apparently awaiting pick up...and unlocked. I opened it up and started unscrewing the door lock doohickies. The service writer ran out and yelled at me...demanding to know what I thought I was doing. I pointed out that since he was not responsible he shouldn't worry about what the *$%& I was doing. I pointed out that if he was responsible, he would have had this conversation with the SOB that took MY stuff. There was a lot of back and forth and threats to call the cops and finally he told me he would find me some doohickies and a shifter knob. The doohickies worked great but the shifter had a larger hole than the Hurst knob...I shimmed it up with some paper towels and it lasted until I could find the right one. I left the dealership in a cloud of burnt rubber smoke, the very activity they claimed had torqued the axle to begin with. It was childish, but it felt good. That little close-ratio fourspeed was tight and that Goat could smoke 'em through three gears...and I did, right up Miracle Mile headin' to Arizona Hall where MamaCharlie was waiting.

You know, looking back on this whole episode with the perspective of age and experience, I realize I was an immature kid...I did not present myself well at the Tucson Pontiac dealer. They didn't care much for me by the time it was all over. But I still feel that, as a customer, I was not treated very well. It took a salesman at a Chevy dealership in San Diego to determine that the work should be covered by the warrantee...I know the Pontiac people had to be aware of that and tried to play dumb in hopes they wouldn't have to pay for it. The people there were arrogant and snotty and more than one of them made disparaging comments about the integrity of soldiers. Is it any wonder that used car salesmen are the epitome of sleaze?

I think it was Little Whip that had a Friday Five about having a "do-over" for some of the things in your life. I don't remember if I made a comment or not at the time, but I remember thinking that I don't want to mess with where I am now...Butterfly effect and all. However, I think I would like to have the opportunity of going back to that dealership...not as the skinny 20 year old buck sergeant...but as the 38 year old Big Fat Daddy... and cleaning house on the whole **** bunch of them. It still makes me mad.