All the work that needed to be done should have been done by the end of the week. I have to say it was one of the longest weeks of my life. By Friday, all the work had been done, and they had the backup key, but the key needed to be programmed to the car. They were going to try to take care of that on Saturday so I could pick up the car and drive it for the rest of the weekend. I wanted to pick it up first thing Saturday, but the salesman said it would be more like 2:00. Well Saturday late morning he called and said they were having trouble getting the key programmed. It worked, but would reset itself 20 minutes later. Unfortunately the guy who knew how to do it wasn't in that weekend and I had to wait until Monday. This was no big deal in the bigger picture of things, but now I had a whole weekend with basically nothing to do but wait more.

Finally Monday came. The salesman called and said that everything was good to go. I said I'd be there by 2:00. I took the afternoon off from work, hopped in the Crossfire with the title and my own spare key, and headed out. I got there and we started doing the paperwork. It took a little longer than expected, but the guy was really cool. He noticed that the Crossfire title had a lien on it, which I had totally spaced on, and he was very chill when I said I didn't have the lien release. We continued with the paperwork. The tech who put my tags on the car even took it out to put some gas in it for me. I was really impressed with this dealership.

Finally it was all done, .They handed me the key and I sat down in the driver's seat. I turned the key, and nothing happened. This car was so complex I figured there could be safety features that was disabling it. I buckled my seatbelt, put my foot on the brake, and did everything else I could think of. Nothing worked. I went back in the dealer. The salesman and the tech came out with me. The tech, who had just taken the car out for gas, tried it and it started fine. I got in the driver's seat, switched it off, and tried to start it again. Nothing. We switched places, and now the tech couldn't get it to start. Then the salesman sat down, and he couldn't get it to start either. There was a clicking noise coming from under the hood. He tried to tell me it was a dead battery, but I wasn't buying it. Finally it did start again, and we left it running. Now he said it was probably an issue with the programming of the key, and that I should take it back to the dealer.

I should have said that no, they should take it back to the dealer, and I'd take posession of it when everything was cool. That's what I SHOULD have done.

Instead I just said, "Yeah, okay, let me take it over there and see what they say." I don't know why I did. Sometimes when things start going awry, my good judgement goes along with it. Plus I just really, really wanted to drive off in this car! So off I went. This was my first time really driving the car. The test drive was little more than up the road and back, but this time I immediately got on the highway to head to the dealer. Initial impressions of the car were good. The first thing I noticed was that the wheel(s) needed to be balanced. But it did drive very nicely.

So I got over to the dealer. I parked in a spot that was somewhat in the way. I shut the engine off. It started right back up. I did it again, and it started right up again. I did it a third time, and it started a third time. I thought whatever was wrong may have sorted itself out. I pulled into a proper parking space and shut it off again. This time it did not start back up. I grabbed my bag and went in. For some reason I expected them to part the waters and greet me like a visiting dignitary. Instead they pretty much treated me like any old schmoe.

When I finally did get someone's attention, things started moving a bit. The service manager went out to the car with me and confirmed that indeed it would not turn over. He got the knowledgeable mechanic from out of the back. He came out to the car, and he couldn't start it either. He said he had to get back to what he was doing, but that when he was done he'd run the scanner and see what it said. I had to wait. Fortunately I had my iPad with me so I could read, play games, watch videos, and do whatever else I could to occupy my time. It was very stressful. I felt like I did when I was a kid and whatever jelopy I was driving had some mechanical problem in god-knows-where, and I was stuck at the mercy of whatever mechanic I could find.

After quite some time some junior mechanic went out to the car with a laptop. He plugged it in and ran whatever diagnostics he had. A few minutes later he walked back into the garage. No one was talking to me at all this whole time, by the way. I sat back down and went back to waiting. Some time later the expert mechanic walked out of the building and straight towards my car. I got my stuff together so I could meet him out there. But when I got to the front door I saw that he had walked past my car and just kept on going. And going. It looked like he was walking home or something. I went back to sitting down. No one was talking to me. This is what totally drives me nuts in these situations. All I wanted was to know. In my line of work I'm always letting the customer know what's going on. Unfortunately I never get the same courtesy in return. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, people are content to just totally ignore me and keep me utterly in the dark. I went back to waiting. That was all I could do.

Finally after much more time had passed the service manager came back to me and said they had an answer. Unfortunately it was that they didn't have an answer. Whatever was going on, they were going to have to bring the car in and check it out. No one could magically snap his fingers and have the car working properly again. In a way this was a releif. At least I knew that I wasn't leaving in the car later. The unknowns were now known. But by now the day had come to an end and it was dark out. They got on the phone to my salesman. In their talking I could tell that my guy was asking this guy if they had a loaner for me, and this guy was saying no. When their call concluded the service manager told me to sit tight, that my salesman was at the DMV, but that he'd come here right after and pick me up. So I sat down and went back to waiting. And I waited for quite a while.

Just about the time I was giving up hope, my salesman finally walked in. He had his tech with him. We had a little chat with the service manager. It was agreed that the salesman would work with the dealer and keep me informed. I would work with him. We all got in his nice Audy A8 and headed back to their shop. The tech asked me if I brought the plates with me. I looked back at him somewhat dumbfounded and said no. I guess he wanted to put them back on my Crossfire so that I could drive it back home. I said that wasn't possible anyway, because I had transferred the insurance to the Phaeton, They decided that they would put one of their dealer plates on my Crossfire, and I would drive it home under their insurance. The salesman called ahead so that someone would have it ready by the time I got there. It was good to go. When I got in I noticed something on the passenger seat. It looked like a battery pack or something. I didn't care. I just wanted to get home.

So now I was back to the waiting game where no one cared to keep me informed as to what was going on. I let one whole day go by with no attempt by me to check in. No one checked in with me. I used the downtime to dig up the lien release for the Crossfire (but that's another story). I then planned to let another day go by, but by lunchtime I just had to know something. I called the salesman on his cell. He picked up, but no one was there. I could hear background noise, but no one was answering. I called right back and it went to voicemail. I left a message. He didn't call me back. By the end of the day I figured I'd call the dealer. I got the service manager's voicemail and left a message. He didn't call me back. I left work pretty stressed that day. The only thing I had going for me was that I had their trade-in and dealer plates in my possession, and wasn't giving them back until I got my car.

The next day I was determined to get some answers. It had been more than 48 hours since I'd talked to anyone, and certainly no one was talking to me. Later that morning I called the salesman again on his cell, and got his voicemail again. So I called the number for the used car lot. I spoke with someone who was actually helpful! The fist thing he did was to ask me if the gadget he'd left in the Crossfire was okay. It turns out it was a $3000 diagnostic computer. He then went on to tell me exactly what was going on. Unfortunately the news wasn't that good. The Phaeton needed a starter. That's not that unusual for a car of that age/mileage. But it turns out it's a big job on a Phaeton. There are actually only three steps to the procedure, but those steps are: 1) remove the engine; 2) plug in the new starter; 3) put the engine back in! Whaoh! Since the used car lot was on the hook, they were going to try to get out of it as cheaply as they could. That meant possibly some more delays. But at least now I knew. That was all I wanted was to know. I emailed the salesman updating him to what I learned, and asked him to please keep me informed. I actually got a prompt response. He said that he's on the road buying cars, and that email was the best way to stay in touch. I was cool with that.

By the end of the week I learned that the part was ordered and that the dealership would be installing it. By the first of the next week I learned that the part was at the dealership and that they had "started doing the work." Then I didn't hear a damn thing. I had been told that it was a 10 hour job. I figured if they started Monday night that it might be ready by the end of the day Tuesday. I didn't hear. I thought surely it would be ready by the end of the day Wednesday. I decided to check with the dealership before harassing my salesman. I called two service managers, left two voicemails, and didn't hear back from either one.

Thursday morning I emailed the salesman, asking if I could pick the car up after lunch on Friday. He replied promptly saying he'd email the dealership and let me know. Every time an email came in my heart skipped a beat, but it was never from him. Finally I ran out of patience and called the dealership. I was directed to someone's voicemail again. I left a message, but then immediately called the dealership right back again. When I got the same secretary on the line I insisted that I speak to a human being in the service department. She got me someone on the line. He was surprised that my salesman hadn't been keeping me informed, because they'd been in contact with him. The starter was no good. They had another one, and they were going to repeat the procedure starting that afternoon. If things went really well then maybe it would be ready Saturday.

I was still in fits. First of all I was pissed at my salesman for not keeping me updated like I had asked him multiple times to do. But based on the symptoms the car had been experiencing, I was skeptical that the starter was at fault. I feared that they'd go through the whole massive procedure again, and it still wouldn't be right. I was really in knots. I wrote up an email to the sales man saying that I was being as patient as I could, but that my patience was wearing thin, and that if I didn't have the car by early next week that I would pursue my legal options. It may have made me feel a little better to type that up, but I didn't send it out. In the end it wouldn't have made the situation any better. I knew the salesman was motivated to get this situation resolved. I still had what was now their trade-in car, their dealer plates, and the $3000 diagnostic computer. As helpless as I felt during all this, I knew I still had some trump cards in my hand.

I went through the weekend trying not to obsess on whether the car would be ready Saturday or not. I knew it wouldn't be. But I had other things to think about anyway. I was having a colonoscopy on Monday, and I needed to endure the prep over the weekend. That was certainly enough to keep my mind off it, and to keep me wanting to stay close to home.

Well the weekend came and went, and with it the entire contents of my digestive tract (through multiple iterations). Then came Monday morning and my trip to the gastroenterologists. I had chosen to endure the procedure without undergoing anesthesia. That had me extra preoccupied. So when the email came through from the salesman saying that the car would be ready after lunch, I wasn't exactly jumping for joy. I didn't think the fix would work anyway, so I wasn't going to let myself get excited. I was able to get through the colonoscopy procedure fully conscious the whole time. That's another story, but the upshot was that I was able to drive myself home, and that I would be clear-headed for the rest of the day. But the only thing on my mind was sleep. I didn't sleep well at all the night before, constantly getting up to make a mad dash to the toilet. So I just put a bit of food in my stomach, and went home to take a long nap. This was right around the time that I should have been hearing from my salesman. Ordinarily I would be concerned that I would be unavailable when someone expected to be able to reach me, but based on the way I had been kept out of the loop the whole time, I didn't let it worry me.

So I had a nice nap and woke up feeling better. After I got myself together again, I checked my phone. Sure enough there was a voicemail from my salesman. He simply said my car was ready to go. So apparently the fix worked after all! I got my stuff together and drove the Crossfire up to his sales lot. When I got there my salesman wasn't even in the building. I gave the Crossfire keys and the lien release to the tech guy and I was on my way. I had intended to take the Phaeton on a long, leisurely drive home around the lakes, but at this point all I wanted to do was put my sore ass in the recliner and take it easy.

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