Riding With Strangers

The thing I hate most about being single is that there's no default person to hit up to drive me around when my car needs service. If I also didn't have any of my friends to pick me up from the service center, I'm left with two options. Sitting in the waiting room for who knows how long till it's done.

Zzzzzzz...

Or you can use their "concierge" service (offered at most dealerships) in which you get into a car with a dude you've never met and he drives you to work or back home...

The latter choice is usually favorable because you can go about your day, watch TV, eat, sleep, all of the above...

Yes, I often eat in bed because that's where I watch TV.

But there are some draw backs to the second option.

1) You have to awkwardly sit in the car with dude-you've-never-met and feel like you have to make conversation with him, even though the only thing you know about him is that he works at the service place. Unless you also work or worked for something car related, there's not a lot of material there. 

2) When your car is done, one of these guys has to come and get you. 

If it's the same guy he might remember where you live.

But sometimes it's a different guy.

And all this guy has is an address and a GPS navigator.  And no one thought to verify that your address hadn't changed. And you didn't think to tell them it had. And this guy doesn't have your phone number. 

If  you were wondering why it took so long for him to show up, that's why. Oh actually he didn't. Turns out, using the address he had, he couldn't even FIND the town house you used to live in.  Not that that would have helped, So yeah, smart dude. Even though it's one of the easier addresses to find in a town full of apartment complexes and the house number is right there on the door. He was probably looking for a house. Then you're told that after driving back and forth down your old street, which happens to be adjacent to your current street, he called the other dude, the one who dropped you off, and returned to the dealership so that that guy could come get you.

At least the debacle can give you something to talk about on the trip back to the dealership.

Or you could have waited and then gotten in to a scuffle with one of the mechanics over a Twix bar instead, to fill the time.