The Atkins Fight Back

We are fighting the dark side.

The car.

Humana.

But it's not the actual situations that fatigue me. Things break down all the time. There are always bills to pay. I'm not one to expect smooth sailing. And while I'm not altogether stressed about the actual situations themselves, as I believe that ultimately they will be repaired, I must be honest and say that I awoke feeling low this morning over the prospect of the time it takes to remedy situations such as these.

I'm straight-up done putting any more energy into the car and Humana.

See, what is wearing me down is the time I've already given and will have to continue to give to these issues.

Waiting an hour for a tow. Getting the car home. Getting the car towed back to our mechanic on Monday morning. Reworking Harper's ride for school on Monday. Figuring out how I am to get to work, and Zane to school, on Monday since George needs to be on a train at 7:00 AM to head downtown for his ordination class. Finding a replacement vehicle (although, props to Angie, who has offered me a car). It's the mental gymnastics that I have come to abhor. The mental gymnastics that I must endure due to someone else's mistake . . . yeah, I know, that sounds really self-centered. But, it's true.

The car was not repaired correctly back in July. That was 6 months ago. Humana has been jacking me around since February. February. You do the math.

It's the phone calls to Humana (that average 45 minutes a call) in the middle of the day - at least once a week, each time receiving different and contradictory reasons as to why my claims are denied every time I call. No wonder we mothers also give birth to the ability to multitask when we deliver children into the world. Do you really think we wear those telephone headsets around the house to look cool or because we secretly harbor the desire to look like Madonna in concert? No, we wear them so that we can actually prep dinner, put laundry away, and straighten a bathroom, all while staying on hold with Humana.

It's hard when you feel that your time is being taken from you . . . sure, I understand that we all waste time. I am a huge time-waster. But, with these situations I feel as if my time is being taken from me and I have no choice but to continue fighting back. And I'm tired of fighting back. I just want to move on.

We're home bound today and the kids are doing marvelously. Thankfully. They spent the morning playing Star Wars - not on Wii - no, they actually played Star Wars. Harper was Darth Vader. Zane, Bobafett. A snip-it of the dialogue went something like this:

"Bring me Obi One and the young Luke Skywalker. I want them brought back here alive!"

"What about-"

"Don't interrupt me! Find the droids and kill them, but bring me the jet pack (?). Also, Jabba. I want him brought here alive."

Zane did as he was told and I found him in the family room attempting to lift an imaginary Jabba to bring back to Lord Vader. He was grunting. Jabba is quite large. And slimy.

They also played Peter Pan.

They are being rewarded with The Empire Strikes Back.

I did a Peapod Order. If I'm able to get a car today then I can always cancel it and run to the store. However, it is nice to think about someone delivering my groceries to me before 8:00 am tomorrow morning, even with the added expense. An expense we don't have. No, it's not the cheapest choice. But it is a time saver to be sure.

And right now, I want my time.

Desperate Plea

At the risk of having my 1999 Subaru Forester morphed into some suped up speed machine, I am putting the call out to these guys, and gal, from Overhaulin', to save my car.

My car, whose transmission blew this afternoon.

The transmission which was previously replaced in July. And then repaired again in September.

If you are a faithful reader I don't even need to link you back to the events of this summer. For you, this is like a bad film sequel: Transmission III: Stranded at Walgreen's.

I am numb.

And now I'm really not sure how to get the grocery shopping done that still hasn't happened since my run in at Aldi's.

So, I'm boldly putting out the call to the Next Food Network Star and Overhaulin'. I could use some meals for the freezer along with that transmission.

Thanks. I'll just wait here, trapped in my house. I'm the one sitting in the front window learning how to play my pink electric so that I can drown out my troubles with very loud songs.

Oh, and did I fail to mention that I got a few more bills from Humana today, denying some claims for Harper? Is there a show called,

We'll Fight Your Insurance Company For You, So Just Sit Back, Relax, and Let Us Take it From Here, Because You've Spent Way Too Much Time Attempting to Reach Someone Who Can Give You a Straight Answer As To Why They Won't Pay?

No? There should be. Time to pitch that one to the network. Though the title probably needs a little more work.

Cue primal scream.

Mechanical Reconciliation

Here is a photo of the very item that has been giving our family so much grief.

This is a Subaru transmission.

My car broke down today. AGAIN.

Well, I'm being dramatic. It didn't actually break down. Not like last Friday night. Let's review the timeline, shall we?

May 30: Subaru dropped off at our mechanic after being offered a ridiculous amount for it and the Camry at a car dealership. The mechanic suggests we do a complete overhaul of the transmission and put in a new engine to extend the life of the car, as there is a pretty strong assumption that there is engine damage due to transmission damage. They can get us a great deal on a new engine.

We decide to sell the Camry in order to do the extensive repairs on the Subaru which is a better car for our family.

We sell the Camry on Craig's list within 3 hours for a price which will cover the bulk of the Subaru repairs.

8 weeks go by: During that time our mechanic purchases the wrong engine to replace in our Subaru. I don't need to retell this tale. We decide against getting a new engine and pray that once they go in to fix the head gaskets, our fears that the engine is damaged will actually be relieved. They are. The engine looks fine.

July 23: We get the car back. It runs great.

July 25: Car breaks down in Lombard. Transmission completely fails.

July 28: Car returned to our mechanic. We are told that "hoses" which run from the transmission to whatever were never replaced (as normally they last until 200,000 miles) and they will replace them. For free.

July 31: Pick up car. It's running terribly. Shifting in and out of gear. They assume that it's low on transmission fluid. Nope. Now the thought is that the initial hoses which blew on the 25th ended up doing damage to the entire trans. Um, gentlemen, did you NOT drive the car around before telling us it was ready? One only needed to hit the gas to experience the clunky shift.

So, this lead me back to the garage today. I walked stoically into their shop while attempting to keep the emotion out of my delivery as I announced, "I'm Joline Atkins. Owner of THE green Subaru." The guys tried to joke with me, "You can't seem to stay away from this place." I could only respond with, "Listen. I'm trying to be polite here and I'm not up for jokes."

What transpired was a conversation that drained all the color from my face.

The transmission is once again on the fritz.

When we brought it back Monday, it was due to their not finishing the trans job as completely as necessary. And today? Well, apparently, due to not finishing the job correctly the first time means that the trans may have gone. The trans they just overhauled. Don't I sound like I know what I'm talking about by using the abbreviated "trans"? Anyway, their mistake, could have cost us the entire trans overhaul that was completed last week.

I made sure, in my best void of emotion robotic voice, to stress that any new repairs would be on their dime, as per their warranty. They offered me their courtesty car.

"Ma'am the fuel light is on. It's pretty low on gas."

I literally just stared him down with my best Tilda Swinton White Witch impersonation. Icey. It was effective. As the next thing I heard was, "Um, let me run up the street and get that filled up for you."

Yep, that's right. Either fill the car with gas or I'll turn you to stone. Sorry Aslan. I'm on the edge here.

And then, it dawned on me. Over the past few weeks, several different guys at the shop had referred to their "trans guys". Which made me realize that they are not the ones actually doing the work on the transmission. They fixed the head gaskets in our engine, and a few other items, but not the trans. For this, they contract out.

So, is my beef with them?

Nope. For in all honesty, they have always done great work.

My beef is with the shop that overhauled the transmission. Their "trans guys".

Later on, George had a great talk with the owner of the shop, and actually started to make amends upon understanding they he is just as frustrated with his "trans guys" as we are. And when George suggested that he actually refund our credit card for all the transmission work done thus far, at least until we actually have the car back in our possession and agree that it is actually working, he found that fair and credited our card. George spoke honestly and directly, even calling out the owner for not offering an apology.

He apologized. Took responsibility. Refunded our card. Gave us their car to take the Michigan.

Perhaps, THIS is true reconciliation. Radically making amends in situations which raise ones blood to the boiling point.

We could shred their name. And truly, I've not said one positive thing about our mechanic in the past few weeks. And yet, we've never had issue with them until the trans job . . . which, we now learn, was done by another garage. Our mechanic is standing by their warranty. Even though it was the transmission shop that screwed up.

I do believe that our mechanic is attempting to do the honorable thing. After all, it was their suggestion that we fix the transmission in the first place, rather than getting a new car, which would ultimately save us money. And truly, could one even get a reliable used small SUV, with low mileage, for under 5 grand?

No.

So, we now have the mechanic's car for our vacation. The kids can't stand this car. They prefer being able to sit higher and see out the windows. I explained over and over through clenched jaw and gritted teeth that having the car is a blessing.

The evening ended with Pita Inn, smooches from the kids, movie night (College Road Trip), ice cream, lot's of family lovin', and timed drills on how to take apart and put together a transmission.

It's a skill that I pray we never have need to actually perform, and yet one should always be prepared.