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The Rabbit Died

 

     I loaned my then future missus my new Ford Ranger pickup truck shortly after we started dating, when her VW Rabbit kept dying.  In those days she was commuting from Vacaville to Vallejo; me, from San Leandro to San Francisco. She had no practical public transportation available; I was only about a mile walk from the BART station, which would dump me off just a couple of blocks from my office at Van Ness and Market.

 

     Well... that VW’s engine would just stop running without warning.  Cruising down the road, it would just shut off.  If she was lucky, she could pull to the side of the road suffering nothing more than a slight fright but without being run over. After allowing it to rest for a while the little baby-blue beast would usually start again, and might even run great for weeks... and then just stop.

 

     She'd had it to the dealership multiple times for correction. They swapped out the fuse block as a recall item, and replaced a variety of other things, including fuel pump relay, fuel pump, ignition parts... you name it. And other than the recall item they always charged her a “dealership shop rate” plus parts.

 

     One pleasant autumn weekend when I was in Vacaville for a visit, I inquired about the car.  It was running, but a tiny bit ragged.  Being a typical guy with a mechanical bent, I decided to be kind to the machine and give it a tune-up. Simple stuff.... and it nicely corrected the "ragged" issue and it ran fine.

 

     A few days later was Halloween. One of my favorite things in life is passing out candy to trick ‘r treaters, and I was really looking forward to spending the evening in Vacaville.  To this end, I'd left my truck at home and took BART to work that morning; plan was that after work I'd take BART to the Concord Station, meet her there, and drive to her house in Vacaville before the first goblins and ghosties knocked. 

 

     When I arrived in Concord, I climbed into the Rabbit’s passenger seat.  She started the car, drove about three feet – and it died. It would not re-start, and I was NOT happy.

 

     So, we took BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit rail system) back to San Leandro, walked the mile to home, got in my Ranger and drove back to Concord. I took her key, and the car started. I would not let her drive it; rather, I asked her to follow me in my Ranger to the Volkswagen/Ford dealership in Fairfield. I knew it would be closed, of course, but I intended to drop it off at the service department.

 

     This was not to be; the cleaning crew had lowered the chain across the parking lot and parked one of their own cars across the driveway to secure the lot.  I climbed out of the “Bunny” to talk to the crew leader; he said they had to keep the lot closed and would not let me in. 

 

     I was not getting any happier. 

 

     After a moment of pondering, I told him that they had a choice - move that car and let me in, or plan on spending the night.  If they would not let me leave the car on the lot, I was gonna leave it in the driveway and block their own exit.

 

     They moved their car.


     I drove the vehicle right up to the service department, and parked it as close as I could to the office door.  Come morning, people were gonna have to squeeeeze past it to get in.

 

     Oh! VERY important! I forgot one part - a couple of days after I did the tune-up, it had again died. She had it towed to the dealer... they called her that afternoon and said that it was ready.  When she got a ride to pick it up, they advised her that all it needed was a tune-up – “that’ll be $175, please.”

 

     But, she said, her boyfriend had just done a tune-up a couple days earlier! – “Oh! Well, your boyfriend used all the wrong parts.  Next time bring it to us!”

 

     Like hell! I knew Volkswagens verrrry well....  I had been insulted!  :angry:

 

     We missed Halloween. The next morning I drove us back to the dealership in my Ranger.  We arrived about an hour or so after opening, and I was amused – no, make that delighted – to see people swearing and grumbling as they squeezed past the Rabbit, demanding to know who’d left it there.

 

     "Why, I did!" I proudly proclaimed.

 

     The staff looked at me in shock - not only did I admit to it, but there I stood, dressed in a nice suit and carrying a briefcase.

 

     Recovering from his surprise, the service manager scowled and asked, "Uh.... you left that Rabbit there?  Why!?"

 

     Returning his scowl, I told him why.  I recited the list of times it had been in to their shop, work they'd done to correct the dying engine problem, work they'd charged her for - none of which had been effective. I told them that it had died the night before on the freeway when we were between a semi- and a Greyhound and nearly got us killed to death.  And I very succinctly expressed my displeasure with missing out on Halloween!

 

     Now that I was well and warmed up, I took a deep breath and launched into a narration of the "tune-up" fiasco.  With an attentive audience of all within earshot – mechanics, a secretary, customers, and others -  I crisply related the story; how the service manager (likely the very fellow I was addressing) had told her that I had "used all the wrong parts," and charged her for all new parts as well as labor - which again did not correct the issue.

 

     Then, I said, "Look. I rebuilt my first VW in my third-floor fraternity house bedroom many years ago, and I've rebuilt countless engines since then. As for the 'wrong parts,' I used all Bosch components: Distributor cap. Rotor. Points. Plugs. Ignition wires...." and, from memory, recited the PART NUMBERS for each component.

 

     "Now. Would YOU like to tell ME just WHICH of those parts was incorrect?”

 

     The dude had absolutely turned purple... 'specially since the dealership's general manager had been summoned early in my address and witnessed it in almost its entirety.

 

     The dude paled. He said that he would personally take charge of the car... and even drive it home until it failed again and would absolutely not return it until it was corrected and that there would be NO charge.

 

     I was on a roll.

 

     So next, I asked... "And what's the young lady s'posed to do in the meantime?"

 

     The General Manager stepped forward with a smile and said, "Miss... right there's a brand-spanking new Ford LDT Crown Victoria. Here's the keys. You just take that car and use it for as long as it takes us to properly fix the Rabbit. NO CHARGE!"

 

                                                                                                                   image.png.67a5412ac1a3bd46718e675969a3b73f.png

 

Post Script:  The next Saturday, we drove that LTD back to the dealership, with the intent of looking at new Jetta's.  Evidently, the entire staff was aware of our last "visit."  The manager on duty was made aware of our interest and told us that she could have any vehicle for just about their cost.

 

She drove home in a brand-new Jetta.   

 

 

 

 

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We had a Rabbit once. It ran well, until we had a deep snow and it got under neath the timing belt cover. Instant quit! Not to mention it was extremely cold out that night. Towed to dealership and my parents had to come fetch us. Expensive fix, not really reliable after that. Gone a few months later.:rolleyes::blink::angry::blush:

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I had two neighbor girls years ago in New Mexico that had a light blue VW Rabbit Diesel. That car was always having issues and they somehow came to the thinking that I was their mechanical savior. 
The girl that didn’t own the VW took it to the “gas” station to fill it up. She filled it and brought it home. The next morning at 5:30 they were banging on my door. They needed help. Their car wouldn’t start. 
I went out, much to my wife’s chagrin, to help them. I fiddled around a bit trying to figure out why it wouldn’t run when I smelled gasoline. 
She had filled the near empty car with gasoline. 
That was when I noticed the 3 guys sitting in another car in the lot watching us. I asked who they might be and the two girls said “Oh, they’re our boy friends and her boyfriend’s brother. 
I was just a tad pizzed about this. Those lazy (insert select curse words here)

I went over and told them to get their asses out of the car and help their girl friends and then I went back into my apartment. It was just a degree or two above freezing. 
That rabbit sat there for days before they got it towed somewhere to get the gasoline out of it. 
Those girls never spoke to me again. 
 

Yay Me! :D
 

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I had an 85 S-10 Blazer that met up with a 5 point buck.  Not a lot of damage.  Still very drivable.  The deer, not so much.  Took it to the dealership I bought it from.  One, that my folks have been dealing with for over 20 years.  They took it in.  Got the call to come get it, which I did on my way into work.  Following morning, I noticed that the color didn’t match.  Not even close.  Also, the door sounded “tinny” when closing it.  Took it back.  They claimed that the insurance didn’t pay for the insulation in the door.  I looked at him and asked, “don’t you reinstall what you remove?  Then asked how would the adjuster know there was any insulation when the door wasn’t open for him to see it?  They took it back in and fixed it.  I picked it up when called, again on my way to work.  Following morning, I noticed, yes, the color match was better, but there was a new dent.  I took it back.  They tried to say they didn’t do it.  I said, “really, that’s your answer?”  After a bit more back and forth, they took it back in.  After a couple of “should be ready...”, I got the call to come get it.  It was buried around other vehicles, so didn’t get a good look.  Following morning, I got my look.  Now one of the reasons for the delay pick up was they were cleaning it.  Well, I showed up again.  Talked to them about how  I wasn’t happy with their “cleaning”, plus they had damaged it some more.  They tried to blame they were busy, and was I sure that damage was new.  I showed him what I was saying.  The last straw was, “lastly, I want the SOB who put their foot on my dash(nice full foot print of bonds dust).”  He went white and stumbled and quickly took it back in.  That weekend, my dad was saying how the dealership had positions open for body shop mechanics, body shop foreman, and body shop manager.  My dad then looked over the top of the paper and asked “I wonder why?” Wish I could say this was the end of this, but...

 

Called them on the day it was suppose be ready.  First call, the lady couldn’t find the paperwork and to call back.  I called back about an hour later and was told my truck wasn’t there and asked if I was sure about where I dropped it off, and to call back later in the afternoon.  I told her, no, I would not call back in the afternoon , but I would call in 30 minutes.  If, when I called and they still did not know where my truck was, that I was calling the local Police department and reporting a stolen vehicle, and just hung up.  30 minutes later, I called back.  Why yes they knew where it was, and yes, it was ready for pickup.  They took it to their other “high end” dealership and had them do the work.

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I sold cars for about five months and was quite successful.  I had a LOT of word of mouth sales, but I quit because the sales manager and the fleet sales manager really hated me.  Seems like I was so honest I ruined some of their deals.

 

Really hurt my feelings.  The next day I started the last job I ever ad and certainly the longest.  After eleven years I was financially set and retired when it stopped being fun.  I retired at 58 years old.

 

I saw a lot of abuses of customers and potential customers by the sales and mechanical staff.

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Howdy,

The rabbit and its variations were fun cars that had all sorts of little problems.

They sure had a lot of ways to fail but when running well they were great.

I had two and loved and hated both.

Then I drove a honda.

Best

CR

 

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The Bug Died

 

     One late October Saturday, 'bout 1982 or so, my kid cousin went with me to a costume supply house south of Market Street in San Francisco.  It was just before closing time, and the shadows were beginning to get kinda long.  I parked my Fiat Spider a few yards behind a VW Bug that had a few folks milling around behind it; didn't think much and we went in to pick up some Halloween supplies.

 

     When I came out, I noted that there were three young ladies and a fella in a white coat - perhaps some sort of technician, or mechanic.  Ah well... it seems they must be having a mechanical issue and had summoned help.  I put my purchases in the trunk, and as we were about to saddle up for the trip home, it became evident that the ladies appeared to be upset.  I closed my door and wandered over, and asked if they were okay.

 

     Well... they were not.  They were 150 miles from home (Grass Valley), parked in an area they did NOT want to be after dark, and their car would not start.  The "technician" turned out to be a parking lot attendant, and his attempt to help was to dump some 10-30 oil into the crankcase - a no-no.  The paraffin-based multi-viscosity lubricants of the day could wreak havoc with the oil coolers; fortunately, the car had been about a pint low, and the addition of a quart raised the level above the "full" mark but not enough to be problematic (a serious oil overfill could destroy the flat-four engine).  

 

     I peeked into the engine compartment and asked the driver to turn it over; she did, and I immediately spotted the problem and called for her to stop.

 

     "Wait here - I'll be right back!" I said.  

 

     Cousin Chuck stayed to talk with them; a moment later, I came walking out from behind my open trunk lid wearing a set of coveralls and carrying a serious-looking tool box.  The parking lot attendant decided to leave, evidently out-classed and a mite grumpy at missing out on his big chance to impress the girls.  :rolleyes:

 

     The problem?  A circlip that held the fuel pump lever shaft had evidently parted ways, was nowhere to be found, and the shaft had worked its way out of the pump and was lying below the distributor.

 

     I quickly removed the pump and replaced the shaft, cleaned the body thoroughly with some carb cleaner, and, lacking a replacement clip, secured it with several wraps of good ol' duct tape - with a nickel over each end of the shaft so it couldn't work its way through the tape. 

 

     The li'l car started right up and ran flawlessly.  ;)

 

     I told them that this was a "field expedient repair" that would get them home, but they should have their mechanic, Dad, boyfriend or someone replace the circlip.  Oh... and get an oil change - you do NOT want that 10-30 oil in the engine.  The parking guy meant well, but...

 

     They offered to pay me - oh, HECK no!  One gal who appeared to be the oldest (maybe twenty or so?) asked for my address.  I reluctantly gave it to her, and told her that if she sent me money I would send it right back - just be safe!  

 

     The gals gratefully climbed aboard and happily chugged off.  But I did get a nice Christmas card and thank-you note from them!   ^_^

 

 

1979315772_VWType1FuelPump.jpg.1f616dd1ca4596806fa00e63d0e26217.jpg

 

 

 

 

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The high school Spanish teacher, who was also my tennis coach, bought a brand new ‘65 Mustang. It was a light blue metallic that flaked, faded, and peeled before it was six months old.  The dealership stripped and painted it for free, the first time.

 

When it did the same thing again within a few months, he returned it to the dealer!  This time, they refused to make it right.  My dad told him to buy two dozen lemons, a fifty foot length of cotton rope, and a bottle of white shoe polish.  
 

The coach strung the lemons on the rope, wrapped that around the car, wrote out his complaint on the windshield and back glass as well as the side windows with the shoe polish and parked the car in the adjoining parking lot to the dealership, right out on the main drag where everyone could see it.  He left the car there for two consecutive weekends!

 

On Monday after the second weekend, the owner of the dealership called the coach and offered to paint the car “any other color” at no charge!!

 

A dark metallic blue was agreed to and the lemons were retired!!

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4 hours ago, Subdeacon Joe said:

Do I need to say it, Hardpan?  

 

Uh... Say what, Joe~?  :ph34r:

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