Auto Parts stores are cool, and so are South Africans

I had an interesting Friday.

When I moved up here, I needed to have a trailer hitch installed on my SUV so I could haul all of my short term stuff behind me in a glorious and aerodynamic U-Haul. I've never needed a trailer hitch before, and didn't relish the thought of spending close to $2,000 for the "towing package." Of course everything is more expensive when you're dealing with a BMW ("replace that cupholder? That will be $1,632 dollars, sir. Achtung, motherfucker!"). Hell, if I had gotten the "official" package from the dealership, I probably could have flown my coffeemaker and 22 UGA golf shirts directly here in first class for less.

However, someone at the dealership took pity on the defeat in my voice when I heard the price of a trailer hitch. He recommended this innovative new product that was coming over from South Africa. It had one representative in the US, and he just happened to be in Atlanta. And the name of the company? Star Trek! (Of course, that won't last, given copyrights and all. But I saw it as a sign from the planet Vulcan). They could put a hitch on the vehicle for a fraction of what I was quoted elsewhere. And the design was pretty freaking cool. It could be easily taken off and put back on at my leisure, and the bimmer would look the same, and not like I'm toting a bass boat to the crick this weekend with a case full of iced Shaeffer. Awesome. And it would only take an hour to install. Even better, as I was up to my ass in pre-move activities.

Well, I won't recount the horror of my "day" at the installation facility. Needless to say, it was on the far side of Atlanta. And it took over 6 hours. And the "facility" where I spent the day had no waiting room, only one rickety chair. And I got stuck in Friday rush hour traffic returning to my house.

Well, I finally got up here with the U-Haul and unpacked. Dropped off the U-Haul the next day. And when it was time to take off the hitch and return my vehicle to normal (and remove the Dale Earnhardt and Bass Pro Shop stickers from my back window), guess what? The key didn't work. The hitch could not be removed. Of course. So I've been driving around for two months with a protrusion out the ass of my car, like a redneck hemorrhoid.

Fortunately, when I contacted the company that came up with this innovation, they were beyond concerned and helpful. They lamented the fact that their choice of Atlanta installer was a poor one, and vowed to make it right. Of course, not having nationwide franchises like McDonalds complicated the matter, given the fact that I was in Maryland and they weren't really anywhere. So here was the solution. Two of the co-owners of the company were flying from South Africa to (ironically) Atlanta, and then on to Vegas for an auto accessories show. They would schedule a layover in my area, and I would pick them up at the airport and they would right the wrongs of the moronic installers.

So this Friday, I make my way to Dulles airport in rush hour to pick them up. Let me say now that DC traffic is only slight below that of Atlanta in terms of blood boiling frustration. Still, everything went as planned, and I picked up two delightful funny-speaking gentlemen at the curb, and they had tools and a brand new hitch. Fortunately, they spoke a sort of broken English in addition to whatever else they were fluent in. Now, keep in mind I don't live near Dulles. And there is no local dealership in which to do the work. So where the hell do you go to take off your bumper and install a new trailer hitch with two wacky South Africans? To a Starbucks parking lot, naturally.

We pull up in a remote area of a strip mall parking lot, and start the work. I'm working the crackberry, quaffing Ventis like they're going out of style. "Do Americans really drink that much coffee? Are these places everywhere?" ask the boys. Oh, yes, my friends. Oh yes. About halfway through the process, they realize they need some.....well.....stuff. After a game of South African charades, I understand they need WD-40. Fortunately, between the crackberry and the GPS, I have the world at my fingertips and we discover that there's an Advance Auto Parts a couple of blocks from there. One of the guys hops into the car with me, and the other stays in the parking lot to watch over the nuts, bolts and my back bumper. I'm sure that must have been surreal for the panhandler that had come up him as we returned. Some random dude standing in a Starbucks parking lot, surrounded by tools and a large silver bumper, smoking Marlboro reds and trying to explain "I don't have a dollar for you - beat it" in a foreign language.

Anyway, when we got to the auto parts store, the guy with me thought he was in heaven. Rows and rows of auto parts, all neatly labeled. Same question as Starbucks: "are these places everywhere?" Uh, yep again. You know, the rest of the world may hate us, but when it comes to convenient coffee and auto parts, fuck 'em. We've got it covered. Take your enlightened politics and rich cultural heritage and stick them up your ass, Europe. If I want a can of WD-40 and a huge Venti Sumatra with double cream, I can get 'em in 10 minutes on any street corner. That's worth dumping tea in a harbor and a little waterboarding among friends, right?

The guys quickly completed their work in the Starbucks parking lot, and now I have a perfectly working (and easily removable) trailer hitch. They were very, very cool and I can't tell you how nice it was to finally have something go right. Think about it. A South African company with virtually no American presence could have let one customer off in the hinterlands of Maryland just get stuck with a faulty install. What could I have done? There was no retail store to stand in front of and bitch. I could blog about it, and the literally dozens of readers here could boycott them the next time they needed a nifty hitch installed on their bimmer. The only "place" I could actually go to have the work done "right" was over 10 hours away. But they changed their trans-continental flight plans to help out one single customer and make sure everything was handled and that I was happy. Now THAT, my friends, is customer service.

After I dropped them off back at the airport, they said they had a few hours before their next flight and would probably take a cab tour of DC, just so they could see some more of America. I told them that would probably be interesting (I still wanna tour DC myself), but if they really want to know what "America" is all about, pay attention in Vegas. The excess, the waste, the consumption, the gambling, the glitz, the shiny insincerity -- THAT is America. If they were impressed by a Starbucks and an auto parts store, just think how they'll feel strolling through the Bellagio or Caesars.

So, a big THANKS to my new South African friends, and a company that really stands behind its product.