LA Story

I had to go down to Los Angeles recently for business. My dealings actually take me into Compton.
I stay in Torrance, about 25 to 30 minutes driving from LAX airport, depending upon the traffic levels and how you drive.

The company has a rental agreement with National Rental Cars. There is a "club", and being a member, all I have to do is show up with a valid reservation and I get the luxury of picking any car on the lot in the designated area, and they all cost the same.

When I arrived to retreive my car, and be on my merry way to the hotel, they only had a bunch of Chevy Yukons on the lot, of a strange looking boxy vehicle, called the Chevy HHR. I picked the smaller HHR since I didn't want to be driving around a Yukon all over the greater LA area. If I had been with some other people, perhaps.

I got in the car, started it up, and admit, the car was kind of cute, and it really grew on me after driving it off the lot. The car had exactly 33 miles on it. Brand spanking new. After a recent traumatic experience with a brand new Pontiac I bought, I was a bit hesitant, but oh well. A new adventure.

Drove around most of the afternoon and evening. Got settled at the hotel, went out to dinner at a very nice place, went back to the hotel, ran up to the local grocery store to get some orange juice and soda for the hotel room, came back to the hotel, and crashed out for the night.

78 miles on the HHR.

I go out at 7:30 AM to leave for the offices.

I put the key in the ignition.

I turn the key.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Bong.Bong.Bong. Check Charge System, Batter Saver Mode Enabled.

Lemon.

I should have known. I have bad luck with GM vehicles, I can always pick the ones that are flaming piles of excrement.

I called the rental car place, they told me they would send out "road side" assistance to help me out. If they could jump it, I'd be just fine.

No way.

Imagine me stranded in Compton late at night with a car that won't start. I don't think so. Chubby white boy? Not this lifetime.

A very non-english speaking guy showed up at the hotel to "jump" the HHR. The battery is underneath the spare tire in the back of the cargo area. There is not a battery in front, since there isn't room. Go figure.

Car started up once he jumped it.

Whoopee!

I had to drive the car all the way back to the airport, and get it exchanged.

When I arrive to exchange the vehicle, the attendant in the parking lot doesn't speak much english either. I attempt to tell him that I am in need of another vehicle.
"Si!"

The car is defective.
"Si!"

What do you want me to do?
"Si!"

I ended up taking the keys with me, so that the car didn't wind up getting put back on the lot. I wouldn't want the car to do something bad to yet another renter! Ick!

After another 30 minutes of waiting in line and dealing with customer service people, I was able to explain to the counter agent that the car I had was quite defective. I explained what was wrong. She says to me "Wow, you sure got a lemon didn't you!"

I got the lemon? I didn't buy it this time.

I drove off the lot with a Grand Prix. Pontiac.

I'm such a glutton for punishment.

Luckily the Grand Prix ran fine. I made it back home safe and sound.


I was ready to like GM products again, only to be kicked in the teeth.

I'm sticking with my Ford. It has never stranded me anywhere.