Still trying to recover from my vacation. Which had its moments, both good and bad.
I managed to smash up the van the very first day. It was completely ridiculous; I took the van in to the dealer to get a brake light replaced, and get a fifty point inspection before we hit the road to PEI the following Monday. The van got a clean bill of health, and they parked it beside a big sign surrounded by four stubby yellow poles. Poles too short to see when you're backing out. I cut the corner too sharply to avoid another van, and rrrrriiiipppppp! Tore the left front end off. On a Friday, at 4pm, before a long weekend. The Monday of which we were to drive to PEI.
I'm standing there thinking, what am I going to tell my wife Lynda? The headlight was dangling from a wire, the badly crumpled body rubbing against the front wheel. We squeaked our way down Dundas Street to the body shop, where the manager, Tony, said, "You ain't going anywhere, pal. Best I can do is, you get it here next Tuesday, I'll have it back to you Thursday." I said, "You don't understand. I have to drive it to PEI Monday or there'll be a divorce."
Tony is nothing short of a saint. This is the Gus Brown body shop in Whitby and I cannot recommend it more highly... because of Tony. He took my Montana in the back himself and pounded it back into shape. He hammered and pulled and twisted with all his special tools, then got out the racing tape and taped the light back in. The light didn't work. He banged it with his fist. It started working. "This'll get you to PEI," he said, almost convincingly. "Whatta I owe ya?" I asked him. "Squat." He said. I said, "Come on, I gotta give you something." He said, "Give the business to me when you're back." We shook hands.
It made it to PEI and back safe and sound (the light only fell off once). Half way back smoke started coming out of the air conditioning, but that was something different. I bought Tony a bottle of my favourite red, Valpollicella (or however you spell it... hey, I drink the stuff, I don't spell it), brought the van in at 9am and he had it back to me (no kidding) at 10:30 the same morning, you'd never know I ever wrecked it. He even bought my girls a snack, and his receptionist Lillian gave the girls balloons.
I love Italians. And whatever Lillian is.
And if anyone from the insurance company reads this, I'll deny the whole thing.
9:17:57 PM 
|
|
