Date: Sun, 7 Jul 2002 14:11:32 -0400
Reply-To: Timothy Crooks <eungkeupsil@COMCAST.NET>
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From: Timothy Crooks <eungkeupsil@COMCAST.NET>
Subject: Re: (Rant) Need to Bitch!
Content-type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1
"You would think they would know better. But, when the oil changers have
to ask where the engine is...........well, what can I say!"
Nice rant. OK, my turn. I avoid this problem by changing my own. I am
lucky to have a little place to do the job and my county easily takes away
the spoils so it is little bother to me. I can remember the days of
apartment living when I was forced to have others change the oil for me.
You are at their mercy. But that is not my rant...
...For those of you who know me, well I live in NJ. If you have ever been
in NJ for any length of time, other than to pass through, you will discover
we have some of the dumbest laws in the nation. My rant lies with the
inability for me to legally pump my own gas. I kid you not, when it comes
to pumping gas, we are still locked in the 1950's; except we do pay 23¢ a
gallon for it. I once pulled into a station near Atlantic city , got out
and unlocked my tank, put the plastic card in the pump, and proceeded to
pump like I did when I lived in the Midwest. Holy moly, you would think I
was robbing the station they way they flipped out at me!!!. I was
threatened by some fat old Piney lady with no teeth that she would call the
police and have me fined by the DEP for committing some environmental
crime!!! (Capt. Hazelwood got better treatment when he ran the "Valdez"
aground). She yelled and pointed to the "full serve only signs at the pump.
I had no other choice at this point but to say "Ok, if this is full serve,
check my oil." She began to fumble around the grill looking for the "hood
release." I just watched and for about 3-4 minutes I said nothing. At last
I just could not hold back my urge to be witty and sarcastic and asked her
if she knew where the oil check was, and gave her the hint "think about
where your brain is." She did not get the hint, I told her at last,
"think, where is your brain? In your rear, just like the engine" and opened
up the number plate. Stretching the sarcasm just a bit more I asked how I
could trust her to deliver a highly volatile fuel to my vehicle if she knew
absolutely nothing about it? Touché.
OK gang, let us face one thing. We drive Vanagons because we like them. We
like them because they offer some advantages we cannot find in those
Daimler-Plymouth-Dodge vans. We also know there are some disadvantages.
The heads, the hard to find parts, and the simple fact that those who do not
drive them are not a smart as we are. We are smart and they are not. So
deal with it. (of course that's my opinion, I could be wrong.)
Tim
1990 Vanagon GL
Berengat, NJ, where we drive on the Parkway and park on the driveway.
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