I scheduled it for 8 a.m., hoping it wouldn’t be out
of commission for long because my wife and her car were out of town. I
cancelled the appointment when a hotel called at 7 a.m.
I delivered my car to the shop at 8 a.m. the following
day. A hotel called at 10. The service manager said my car wouldn’t be
available till the afternoon, but he would be happy to provide a loaner.
Auto shops pay little attention to loaners. Mine was a
battered 1999 Volvo station wagon with 176,000 miles, the gas needle on empty,
and an automatic transmission that paused for a few seconds before delivering
power. Driving was a frightening experience compared to my tiny, nimble
Honda.
I bought gas and lumbered onto the freeway, praying
that Swedish engineering deserved its reputation. VIP parking at a downtown hotel
was out of the question because valets refused to believe that an important
person would arrive in such a disreputable vehicle. But everything worked out.
No hotel doctor should live alone.
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