VW: 2, Me: 1

Every time I drive both of my parents anywhere, I make a mistake.  In 1998, I took over driving so they could both nap in the backseat, and was stopped for speeding as soon as my parents fell asleep.  79 in a 65 in rural New York.  Were we driving on I-90 toward Chicago, I would be in the right lane and most of the other cars would be passing me.

In September, we were on our way to my niece's birthday party and stopped to buy a cake.  The parking lot was the first floor of the grocery store, and it had almost pristine, white support columns.  I made some poor estimations of distance and crunched the passenger side mirror housing.  The mirror itself popped right out of the housing, and was fairly well obliterated.  The housing was basically fine.  I thought about gluing a cheap plexiglass mirror onto the cracked mirror, and then popping that mess back in until we could get a real mirror.  I was overruled.

Our annual inspection is due tomorrow, so of course I spent most of the day driving out to a salvage yard that had a compatible mirror.  It was a nice day, so I got to enjoy some scenery on the old state roads up to the yard.  Two hours and $70 later, I was on my home.

I took a quick look online for instructions, remembering the only previous time I have tried home auto repair and that mess.  I found some helpful pictures at VWVortex, and then proceeded desconstructing my car's door.

In progress, the mirror is wired.

Hey!  Look at that!  The panel actually fit back on!

Yeah, the green of the new mirror housing doesn't quite match the rest of the car.

The door is a little scratched up around the handle, and most of the stupidstupidstupidirritatingstupid tabs that are supposed to "just pop right off" are broken, but the speakers work, the window rolls up and down, and the mirror moved with the joystick.  Or it did, until the joystick snapped off while I was carefully adjusting the mirror.

Frakking cobag joystick.

Updated on Friday, November 1, 2012: Technically, the score could be said to be 3 to 2 in VW's favor, since the keyfob battery died about this time last year.  I was able to replace this about a month ago.

In adding insult to injury news: to pass the annual inspection, the car needs new tires, rear brake pads, some flim flams on the woozle wazzle, the right-hand samoflange has sheared from the dimensional moorings, the alluvial calibrators need new dampeners, the inertial compensators have decompensated, and seven of the valves were found to be on backwards.

Let's call it 4 to 2 for VW, but the game is not yet over.

Closing Time?

I had to get my car* inspected the other day, so I cruised by a mechanic's shop. It was 4:15 in the afternoon and the shop's sign said they closed at 5:30. I asked the guy behind the desk if they performed state inspections, and he said, "sure do, but not after 4."
"Uh, ok. And you close at 5:30?"
"Yes, we do."
"What time do you open in the morning?" I asked as I fixed his face in my memory.
"7 am."
"See you then."

Working in the restaurant industry has made me rather sensitive to bullshit like this. If a bunch of jerks walk in five or less minutes before closing and I deny them service, I would gf such an earthly. Yelp and Chowhound and Facebook would burst into flames with the scorn. If you sit a table and tell them the kitchen closes in five minutes, and they order some apps, and then ask for entrees forty minutes later, there goes all hope of a tip. But if a mechanic says that he doesn't do inspections after four with no posted sign to that effect, I've just got to smile and thank his lazy ass.

If that same mechanic then tells you his shop opens at 7, and doesn't open that shop until 7:50, Yelp isn't going to care. But Heaven help a waiter that refuses to sit a table of people 5 minutes before closing.

* Thanks for the loan, GeniusFather.