Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

Oil Bet He Didn’t Expect That Result

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: gyresirfer | November 30, 2022

One day, our entire parking lot was covered in a cloud of heavy white smoke. I went out to investigate (like an idiot) and found a car on one end of the lot emitting the whole cloud. The driver was GUNNING the engine and the smoke was pouring out of the front end.

I knocked on the window.

Me: “Are you okay, sir?”

Driver: “I topped up my motor oil but put too much in. Now I have to burn it off.”

I’m not a car guy, but I’m sure it doesn’t work like that.

Me: “Do you want me to get one of our mechanics to have a look?”

Driver: *Adamant* “This is perfectly normal! All will be well once the excess oil is burned off.”

Soon enough, one of the mechanics from our garage came to investigate. He had a similar conversation with the guy, and then he led me away.

Mechanic: “That white smoke is burning coolant. The guy has probably blown a seal. Any minute now…”

CLANG! Silence.

The engine seized up. I don’t know what broke in the car, but whatever it was, the car left on a flatbed truck.

Patience Is Not In The Running

, , , | Right | November 18, 2022

I’m watching a half-marathon in a small town. It’s cosy, and people keep their distance without the need for barricades. Police aren’t needed for traffic control, and cars can drive on the same road as the marathon at the same time and nothing ever happens. It’s been going like this for over twenty years now. 

Suddenly, a woman in her car drives up to one of the barricades there to give direction to the runners. She immediately drives onto the curb and is stopped by an older man, who directs the runners in the right direction. 

Woman: “I need to go over there!”

Older Man: “Excuse me, miss, but there are runners running in that street.”

Woman: “But I live there. I need to be there!”

Older Man: “I can move the barricade for you. One moment.”

Woman: “Yes, yes!”

The barricade has barely moved and the woman hits the gas. 

Older Man: “Mind the runners!”

Woman: “Yes, yes!” *Waves out of the window*

She was not going slow at all, and she almost hit the curb on the other side while evading the barricade that was being opened for her on that side. I think her waiting time was about three minutes?

Is The GPS Some Kind Of Snitch?

, , , , , | Legal | November 15, 2022

I’m driving from Michigan to South Dakota to go to the Badlands National Park. It’s a two-day drive, so I decide I’ll just go for one day and then turn around and go home.

My GPS gives me two options on how to get there. I can either go essentially 270 degrees around Chicago, through Wisconsin, across Minnesota, and then across South Dakota, or I can keep going west through Illinois, into Iowa, and then north to Minnesota. The second option is ten minutes longer and about $6 cheaper from the lack of tolls. I say great and go that route.

Being the little speed demon that I am, I end up passing an Illinois state trooper going seventy-four in a seventy-mile-an-hour zone. He pulls out behind me but doesn’t turn on his lights. I hope the universe is being merciful and get in the right-hand land going sixty-nine. He follows. I come up behind a semi that’s going sixty-five. I turn on my blinker, change lanes, pass the truck, turn on my blinker, and move back over.

The trooper then turns on his lights, and I pull off the side of the road.

Trooper: “Hello, ma’am. Illinois state law says that you need to have your blinker on for 300 feet before you change lanes. Now, I’m not going to write you a ticket for that, just give you a warning.”

Me: “Thank you, officer.”

Trooper: “Where are you going to?”

Me: “Badlands National Park.”

Trooper: “Oh, neat. How long will you be there for?”

Me: “I’m just driving out there, spending one day, and then coming back.”

Trooper: “Just a day?”

Me: “Yeah, I mean, the trip is going to take a week as it is.”

Trooper: “Huh. Can I have your license? I’ll just run that real quick and get you the warning, and you’ll be all set.”

I hand off the information and sit and wait. And wait.

A second car that says, “Sheriff,” pulls up behind the gentleman with too much time on his hands. Finally, the sheriff comes up to my window.

Sheriff: “Hello. Do you mind if we have the dog sniff your car? He will be checking for narcotics.”

I have six more hours left to drive and want to get a move on.

Me: “That’s fine.”

The dog circles my car. And I wait some more.

Trooper: “So, ma’am, we get people carrying drugs across the state. So, I just want to know, do you have any contraband on you?”

Me: “No, sir.”

Trooper: “Are you carrying large amounts of cash?”

Me: “I think I have a dollar bill in my wallet.”

Trooper: “Did anyone give you any little baggies or other packages to carry?”

Me: “No, sir.”

Trooper: “Okay. Do you mind stepping out so we can search your car?”

I am pretty sure I can tell him no, but again, I want to get back to driving, and agreeing seems like the fastest way out of this corn-filled state.

Me: “Just so long as you don’t judge how messy my car is, that’s fine.”

I step out, and they spend about thirty seconds glancing through my car with luggage in the back seat and craft supplies in my trunk. The trooper comes back to me with my license and a warning for going seventy-four in a seventy.

Trooper: “Sorry about that, ma’am. There seems to have been a misunderstanding. You drive safe now.”

Me: “Thank you, officer.”

I’m not really sure what was misunderstood there, but I didn’t go that way on my way back home.

Parking Out Demands

, , , , | Right | November 14, 2022

I am normally very kind and helpful, especially if someone asks nicely. But I don’t like people who think they are better than others.

I have some papers to drop off at the bank. The parking lot only has one free space and the car to the right has parked too far left, with the wheels on the line. The free space is VERY narrow, but I manage to park (almost) in the centre of the lines. I am left with only ten centimetres of space between my car and the car to the right, a fancy-looking BMW.

I have just paid for the parking and placed the parking ticket/receipt in my car when someone shouts at me.

Other Driver: “Hey! You! Move your car!”

A man approaches and he looks furious.

Me: “Why?”

Other Driver: “I can’t get into my car!”

Me: “I have parked between the lines; you have not.”

Other Driver: “But the car on my right side was too far to the left, so I had to!”

He is now beet red and steaming furiously, and yes, the car to his right is also a bit off-centre.

If he had asked politely, I would gladly have moved my car, but instead:

Me: “Not my problem!”

And I turn and walk away…

Twenty minutes later, I return to the parking lot. (The teller at the bank was an old friend, so I chatted a bit after dropping off the papers.) The beet-red suit man has found a parking guard and is yelling at her. When I get to my car, I hear:

Other Driver: “You must write a ticket! I can’t get into my car! I have been standing here for almost half an hour!”

Guard: “I can’t! That car is parked correctly!”

Meanwhile, the car on the right side of the BMW has been replaced with another car that is perfectly lined up so there is plenty of space there. The ONLY car not aligned is the BMW.

When I open my car door, I hear the guard saying:

Guard: “But I will write you a ticket since your parking time ended an hour ago.”

This Is Why People Stereotype Car Salesmen

, , , , , , | Working | November 13, 2022

I didn’t buy my first car until after I graduated college in the mid-2010s. I was in a situation where I had the cash to buy a decent used one. I’d done some research online and found a local small dealership that had a car I thought was decent — a 2001 Dodge Intrepid — and asked my dad to come along because I’m no car expert.

When we arrived at the dealership, the owner started talking about the car and showing it to us, and then he allowed us to take a test drive. I got in, put the key in the ignition, and started it up. Immediately, my dad and I both heard something off.

Dad: *Glancing at the owner* “That doesn’t sound good. It sounds like there’s an issue with the timing belt or chain.”

Neither of us knew for sure if it was a timing belt or chain on this specific model, and it was in a spot that you basically had to take the engine apart to see, so we couldn’t verify even after opening the hood.

Owner: “Oh, we just got it. The woman who we got it from assured us that the timing belt was just replaced. It’s fine.”

Both my dad and I were wary, but we took it on a test drive and everything went fine. We negotiated with the guy, and I wrote him a check and drove the car home. I liked it a lot; for my first car, it wasn’t bad even for its age, and it suited my needs at the time. 

Exactly a month after I bought it, I was dropping my mom off at work before I went to work one morning and the car just died. No alerts, warnings, or lights, just flat dead. I’d just barely started the turn into the parking lot where she works, so I popped it into neutral and managed to get it into guest parking.

I called my dad, who drove me to work and helped arrange things with a tow truck so that we could get the car back to the dealer. The dealership also had a small shop, and when I bought the car, part of the deal was that if anything happened, the owner wouldn’t charge me for labor.

It took a couple of days and he reached out to me.

Owner: “It looks like your timing chain essentially disintegrated. I can try and fix it, but since I’m not charging you, this could take a while.”

Me: “What kind of time frame, and what are you thinking is going to be the process to fix it?”

Owner: “I’m going to have to see if I can find a new chain and get that on there.”

I went to a friend who happened to own a mechanic shop and asked their opinion on the situation.

Friend: “It’s not going to be cheap, but your best bet is going to be a new engine. Honestly, on a car that old, I’d see what you can get for it and just wash your hands of it. Unfortunately, you’re going to end up putting more into it than you paid, and with the way he brushed off your questions initially, I’d be worried about what else could potentially be wrong that they either didn’t verify or didn’t bother to fix.”

I ended up reaching out to a junk place and sold them the car for like $150. In the interim of getting that handled, I went to an actual car dealership and got a different used car. When I showed up to transfer stuff to the junk people, the dealership owner then tried to convince me to buy another car from him. I just told him I’d gotten my car situation handled and left.