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it still rides like a buckboard
March 06, 2009
After spending three days manning the tech support desk, I can say that Stephen Fry was (as he usually is) right about telephones.
Well, you see, of course, a telephone is a fantastically rude thing. It's like someone going "speak to me now! speak to me now! speak to me now!". Imagine if you went into someone's office and banged on their desk and said "I will make a noise until you speak to me".
There isn't much to say tonight--I got my car back, and it seems to be running just fine, but it's a no, at least for the time being, on the rear springs and the windshield replacement. Tom is going do the springs as soon as he can get his hands on some, though. He's looking for a beefier aftermarket product, since tbe factory coils are such shit.
As for the windshield, the glass place told Spouse he doesn't normally stock used glass for the PTs. I have to wonder--why the hell not?! In a Chrysler town like this one, where you can't swing a cat without hitting three Cruisers, and given the fact that the damn things are such rock magnets, you would surely think he would be able to move a fair amount of used windshields. But then again, given that they are such rock magnets--maybe there aren't any undamaged ones to be had?
Reading: I'm between books. Not sure whether I want to get back into that Val McDermid I started, of find something else. Now that I have my car back, maybe I can go to the library.
Surfing: Sometimes I just need a bit of Bertie.
Listening: Fleetwood Mac, Jack Johnson, The Gipsy Kings.
At Random: click here
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