I Brake for Idiots

            I realize I am in danger of writing Jalopy-opolis, instead of Joniopolis, but you will not believe what just happened.

            I’m in the car with St. Bob and we pull out of the driveway to run errands.  On the way, we decide to pick up our mail, which arrives down the block, in one of those multiple-family mailboxes they’re using these days.  I thumb through the bills and magazines as we head to the freeway.

            I’m still opening mail as we get on the freeway, and I see one envelope with a red stamp on it that says, SAFETY RECALL NOTICE.

            Well, it must be for a small appliance, I decide.  Something wrong with a blow dryer or a blender, no doubt.  Probably a cord overheats, or a button falls off.  I tear it open.  But it’s not from Conair or Cuisinart—it’s from Chevrolet!  Hey, we just bought a—uh oh.

            Sure enough, it’s about the car we renamed Baby Bugatti, to keep me from riding around in a misspelled car (which you can read about here).  Chevrolet says they apologize and they’re concerned for our safety.  Not concerned enough, however, to get it right the first time.

            This is like those recordings that say, “Your call is important to us,” but not quite important enough to hire sufficient staff to answer it.

            I keep reading.  “Brake assist may be intermittently reduced or lost,” it says.  One of the sentences ends with, “increasing the risk of a crash.”  Oh, only a crash. 

 

            And then they choose to capitalize this line: PARTS ARE NOT CURRENTLY AVAILABLE.  But when they are, Chevy will provide them, and the phrase they decide to put in bold lettering is at no charge. 

            Wow, is this our lucky day or what?  No charge!  Why, I would fully have expected to pay for Chevy’s death-defying blunder out of my own pocket, but they have stepped up in wild generosity and agreed to cover it themselves!  Almost brings tears of joy to your eyes, doesn’t it?

            “So let me get this straight,” I say to Bob.  “We are hurtling down the freeway, and our brakes don’t work.”

            “Well, they work a bit,” he says.  A bit!  Well, that’s all you really need, I believe.  No wonder Chevy chose snail mail instead of a phone call or email.  It’s only the piddling, little, unimportant brakes.  And when will parts be available?  No mention of that.  Hey, maybe Chevy will send us a Christmas present—the essential brake parts! 

            I sigh.  Really, I shouldn’t be surprised.  I mean, how much attention to detail can you honestly expect from the maker of a misspelled car?  Chevrolet, at least you’re consistent.

Hey, have you ordered any of my books, yet?  I promise you will not receive a letter recalling various defective pages, and promising to send the correct ones later.