It's Right on the Corner....

Back to Owner Stories

Editor's Note:The following story was sent to me in an email about 10 years ago - back when I ran VWWorld. I think it's a great story and wanted to inlcude it here.

Greetings!
My name is Patrick Arena. I left a note on your guestbook yesterday, and I've added your site to my favorites. You see, I just bought my first Volkswagen, and I think I've caught the VW bug (no pun intended). In my surfing for all things V-dub, I came across your site and I like it. I think I'll be kicking around here for a bit.

Anyhow, a little background should probably be in order. I was a big Honda fan. The car I just traded for my '97 Jetta was a '94 Civic that was a little mod-ed and an absolute blast to drive. I truly loved that car. The Jetta drives COMPLETELY different. It's higher, boxy, clunky, austure, and a little difficult to drive (in comparison to the Civic). Or so I thought. I started to throw the thing around. This car gets better the harder you drive it. And I've gotten over the initial shock of getting into an unfamiliar car. But the car and I needed to bond. I was getting worried because I was two weeks into ownership and it still felt like I was driving someone else's car. Then this happened.

Now, I admit that I was the bonehead responsible for this micro-fiasco, but I do see a lot of humor in it. I hope you enjoy this little aside that made me and my new Jetta a little closer...

About two weeks ago I bought a '97 VW Jetta from one of those "super high volume" dealerships. Like any of these places, it was up in Watertown, about 80 miles away from my home here in Syracuse. The trip was worth it, or so I thought, because they gave me a great deal and "top dollar" for my trade.

Well, about a week into ownership, there were a few niggling problems I wanted fixed under warranty. I explained to my salesman that I couldn't afford to take a day off from work just to have the car serviced. "No problem" he said. He lives in Liverpool (suburb of Syracuse) and he told me I could drop the car off at his house. He'd drive it up in the morning, have the work done, and return it to me that evening. OK, not quite convenient, but better than nothing. He gave me directions to his house. "It's right on the corner of Hopkins Road and Iron Oak", he explained. "I probably won't be around tonight, so just pull it into the driveway, leave a spare key under the floor mat, and everything will be OK". Famous last words. I asked him for a house number but "Nah, the numbers are hard to read, just right on the corner- don't worry about it". OK, you're the boss. Per his instructions, I dropped it off that night around 9 o'clock. None of the lights were on, and I figured "Well, he said he wouldn't be home". I left with my ride content that my car would be good as new in little under 24 hours.

At 6:15 the next morning, the phone rang. "Is this Mr. So-n-so?" (name changed to protect the mentally challenged) "Uh, yes, this Mr.S" I belched out in my just out of bed voice.
"This is the Onondaga County Sheriff's Department. Are you the owner of a green 1997 VW Jetta?"
"Um, yes?"
"Do you know where your car is, Mr. S?"
"Um, I think you're going to tell me where it is"
"Your car is parked in a driveway on Iron Oak CIRCLE and the woman at that residence cannot get out of her driveway because your vehicle is blocking her in."
"Uh, can you hold on one second?"
I put the phone on my knee and screamed the f-word about as loud as I think I've ever heard it uttered. I put the phone back up to my ear.
"Is everything OK, Mr. S?"
What do you think? I PARKED MY CAR IN THE WRONG FRIGGIN DRIVEWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN AND IT'S QUARTER AFTER SIX IN THE MORNING!
"Yeah, I'm fine..."
"Mr. S, WHY is your car in this woman's driveway."
"Um, I don't know."
"You don't know"
"Well, no see, I do know, um, let me explain..."
I told her all about it.
"Mr. S, we'll have to call a tow truck if you can't get up there soon"
"Can the officer move my car? It's unlocked with a key under the floor mat."
A few moments of silence.
"Mr. S, the officer responding will move your vehicle to the side of the road."
Few!
"Can he drive it down a block and drop it off at my salesman's house?"
"Mr. S, we don't drive people's cars all over for them, mmmmkay?"
"OK"
"Thank you Mr. S. Have a good morning."
OK, so that's over with. Now I have to call my ride and tell him what happened, and that the schedule has changed a little.
Ten minutes later, the phone rings. It's the police again.
"Mr. S, this is the Sheriff's Department again"
"Um, OK"
"The officer can't start your car. He says there's a strange song playing when the key is in the ignition and he thinks it's an alarm."
Alarm? I didn't arm the friggin' alarm!
"A song is playing?"
"Yes, a song."
"Out if the radio?"
"No, it's an electronic song"
I know what it is. It's the door chime. Anyone who's ever been in a late model VW knows what it sounds like.
"Ask him if it sounds like a little mexican maruichi band playing"
She doesn't mute out. I hear them on the radio. She asks him if it sounds like a 'little mexican jumping bean band'. He squawks back "confirmed". "Ok, that's just the door chime. Tell him to start it, he has to put the clutch all the way to the floor."
I can now picture this hulking sheriff with his Stetson on, a guy used to driving around in big ol'Caprices and Crown Vics, crammed into my little VW mashing the pedal through the floor.
"It worked! It worked! Thanks again, Mr. S"
No, thank you.
Ten minutes later, the phone rings again. Guess who?
"Mr. S, This is the Sheriff's Department, again."
"Oh crap, what now?"
"The officer cannot figure out how to engage reverse."
These guys carry loaded firearms and this one can't figure out how to put a VW in reverse, let alone start it.
"There's a lock out. He has to push the gearshift down and then up to the left."
She leaves the phone off mute again. I can hear the radio conversation with the officer. I can also hear all of the background noises, like him trying to figure it out and stuffing the gearshift someplace it's not supposed to go. It sounds like ten dead monkeys rolling downhill in a barrel. Finally, I hear a loud snap.
Ugh.
"The officer has engaged reverse. Thank you, Mr. S."
"No, no, thank you!"
"And Mr. S?"
"Yes"
"Don't do this ever again, mmmkay?"
"Yes ma'am."

My ride showed up not much later than that, and we rushed up to Liverpool. I had horrible visions of all the neighbors standing outside in their bathrobes and the woman I blocked jumping up and down in front of the cop screaming for retribution. And that I'd get some kind of big fat ticket and have to wear a scarlet letter of "VW" on my chest or something. We got there, and- nothing. Whew. I slinked over to my car. The cop somehow set the alarm without locking the driver's side door (I have no idea how he did this). I opened the door and the car went crazy. Absolutely nuts. The neighbors come out. Dogs start barking. I am at this point exactly one inch high. I jumped in my car and got the hell out of there.

So, I'm trying to figure out what happened when I drive by Iron Oak AGAIN. What the hell? The street is a horse shoe. It was Iron Oak and Hopkins Road, ONE BLOCK DOWN! I went to the first Iron Oak, my salesman's place was on the second. Thanks for not telling me this important little piece of information, I thought to myself. I pulled into my salesman's driveway. His girlfriend was there and reassured me that it really was his house. As my ride drove me to work, I tried to comfort myself in the fact I left them the car with no gas in it.

Happily, the car was returned to me that night and now is perfect like it should be. And I love it.

The moral of the story is this: Buy your next car at a dealership as close to your home as physically possible, and ALWAYS get explicit directions.

And buy something the cops can drive.

Well, I hope you got as good a laugh out of that as my friends, family, and co-workers did. I figured you might need something to start off your 'stories' section.

Anyhow, take care and enjoy the ride. Or is that for some other company? Whatever.

Sincerely, Patrick Arena Syracuse, NY