A Series of Unfortunate Automotive Events

The phone rings, and it's the tow systems' automated message again. “If your service has arrived, please press 1. If your service has not arrived, please press 2.”

2!

After five minutes, I got a customer service person. & explained, hey, it's been over an hour. Yes, my car is still in the same safe and secure location out of the way of direct traffic that it was the last two times that I spoke to an operator, but thanks for asking, 'cause hey, maybe I just like, teleported it into an intersection to amuse myself since my real name is Jean Grey and I'm just calling tow companies for the fun. Who knows, it could happen, right? Right. Totally.

You know, they ask you that every. Single. Time - and here's what I love – what if I wasn't in a secure location? 'cause the first thing they do right after they ask you that is put you on hold. I've had cars break down in non secure locations before – my last day of work in Massachusetts before I drove out here, I was driving my mom's car so that the tow hitch could get put on mine, & my mother's alternator decided to die in the middle of 95 N at 6 at night. Nothing like breaking down in the middle lane of rush hour in Massachusetts, lemme tell ya. Luckily for me, a rather nice mother of three teenagers from New Hampshire happened to be behind me, & she gave me a ride to the nearest gas station. Here's the kicker of that one – when I called the Mass State Troopers to let them know that yes, I was the person that had done that & there was a tow truck going to get the car now, they yelled at me! Yes, they yelled at me for leaving my car to get help & get towed! True story! I was, it would seem, supposed to just sit there, and wait that maybe someone would magically pull a tow truck out of their trunk or if I was lucky, that another Statie would see me & call a truck. Right Whatever.

The point of the above paragraph? If you're in a secure location, they'll take forever to get to you. If you're in a non-secure location, you're still gonna get shit, so why are they asking you when it really doesn't matter - you're screwed either way!

Just as the girl on the line was calling the tow company, my chariot arrived. Of course, my chariot happened to be a flatbed tow truck chauffered by a rather large El Salvadorian* guy named Bobby, but if everything was like in the movies, what would I have to write about?
*note : I've found the Hispanic community in LA is very specific about their origins - they always tell you where their family comes from. Although, and I say this knowing it will dismay a few of my readers, one of the more frequent phrases I hear is "I'm no fucking Mexian mujado!" The joy of LA - I'm gaining work experience and knowledge of multiracial slurs all in one shot!

I explained the sitch to Bobby regarding why we were driving the car 20 miles, and he was fine with it. “I get paid by the hour, man. We drivin' it to Vegas, I'm still getting paid.” Bobby is my kinda guy – in terms of tow trucks, anyway. Besides, it seems his mom's car crapped out in the middle of downtown LA about five miles from where he was dropping me off, so he was gonna drop me off, pick her up, & drive back before his boss figured out. Way to go, Bobby - that's our kind of thinkin'. I want a son with his mentality.

Bobby & I end up spending the next 45 minutes trying to get back into LA (see, if my car had worked, I'd have been driving back in at 2, & it would have been a 20 minute drive) We had some lovely discussions about dogs, since Bobby raised pit bulls – seems he used to raise them for fighting, then decided he couldn't stand that anymore, a decision which I heartily approved of. This story was followed by an anecdote of how he'd just reclaimed one of his puppies from a guy because he showed up to check on the dog & found it with a rope around its neck in filth in the guy's backyard. I love colorful stories that end with, “and I told the fucker not only was he not getting the dog back, but he better never come to me for a dog again, and he better never come 'round anyone I know looking for a dog, or I'd beat his ass, and when I told the cops why, the cops wouldn't do a damn thing about it. Cops like dogs, ya know.”

I then traded him the story of Closet Buffyholic discovering that one of her company's claims was for a barn that burnt down & turned out to be a puppy mill, & how she was rather…adamant about not even reinsuring them, never mind a settlement of any sort. Bobby's reaction was, “You hang out with good people.”

We make our way down past the Hollywood Bowl, through the mayhem of Hollywood & Highland, with Bobby using his camera phone at a stoplight to take a picture of one of the actors dressed up outside of Mann's Chinese Theater, 'cause “I love Storm Troopers, man.”

Meanwhile, Zoey is still in the back of the car, which is on top of the flatbed as I direct Bobby down La Brea west on Pico as the girl at the WestWood PepBoys instructed.

And we go west...