the lemon law
When Ali’s car wouldn’t start again three weeks ago, I felt really bad for him. Because aside from his beloved car, his laptop, a daughter who vomits like it’s going out of style, and an opinionated wife who never shuts up, what else does Ali really have to live for?
So like I said, I felt bad. And that’s why, as Ali waited forever for a special tow truck with a crane to lift his car, Maya and I piled into my car (pajamas and all) and picked him up. Without complaint.
Me: “I think your car is a lemon Ali. You need to talk to a lawyer.”
Ali: “Yeah, maybe.”
The second time Ali’s car stopped working I was a little less sympathetic. Mostly because it was Saturday morning, I had an urgent salon appointment to get to, and thanks to tandem parking Ali’s car was blocking mine. (Those of you who color your hair understand the full extent of this situation.)
As I waited for Ali’s new BFF – the tow truck driver – to pay us a little visit again, I shared my untimely thoughts:
Me: “You need to talk to a Lemon Law lawyer Ali. Like today.”
Ali: “Why are you stressing me out?”
Yesterday marked the third time in three weeks that Ali’s car refused to start. Yes my friends, I had to leave work and deal with Ali’s car situation again. I had a litany of complaints:
- Why are you paying for a car that doesn’t work?
- The fact that they told you, “They can’t replicate the problem and that things have to get worse before they get better” is bull$@#$.
- Does the dealer think you have NOTHING else to do than to hang out waiting for a tow truck to rescue you once a week? You need to march down there and roll some heads.
- Does the dealer think that I have NOTHING else to do than to keep picking you up when your car won’t start? Heads MUST roll.
- You are too nice. Nobody responds to that anymore.
- Did I mention you need to hire a lawyer! Or am I just talking to myself here?
Ali: “I talked to the lawyer. Now will you leave me alone?”
And now I feel bad. Again.