Going to the Mattresses

'Bout to Serve a Heaping Helping of "I Don't Think So, Bitch"

Remember when we thought Karyn was going to get scammed over a car and she didn’t?

Well, I never thought I would, yet I’m pretty sure someone is currently trying to scam me over a car.

Obviously, I am about to go to the mattresses.

Better yet, I am about to go all Jen Lancaster on their asses.

Here’s the situation—I had a client come to town and we planned to have lunch in the suburbs. I was the one who’d be driving, so I rented a car for the sake of expedience. I mentioned on the pod last week that as soon as we picked up one of our SUVs from brake repair camp, the suspension went out on the way home. (So much swearing, you don’t even know.) My other SUV has been in storage because it also needs new suspension and an alternator. I’ve been on the fence about repairs vs. a trade-in on something newer, so I’ve been dragging my feet.

For someone who’s poor at math, I am oddly on top/obsessed with of interest rates. If you were to buy a new car for $60K with an average FICO score of 717, you’d pay an extra $10K in finance charges. And if your credit is below that average, you’re getting into usury territory, paying anywhere from an extra $15K to $20K. So, if I need a car, I generally wait until I get a new book contract and can pay cash.

I buy preowned with a warranty. The downside is, after the warranty expires, everything tends to go sideways at the same time and for high dollar amounts. (We are currently here and it is annoying.) BTW, I also have a third car which is in great shape, having been on a pricey vacation to the mechanic over the summer. However, it has racing tires—which is apparently a thing—so it’s a spicy ride when it’s below thirty degrees.

Tl;dr, champagne problems, renting a car seemed like the easiest thing.

I’d never heard of Turo until all the bad shit happened to the victims this week. Yes, renting from them should not have been my first takeaway; I own that. But when I looked into how Turo works, it seemed like the easiest way to get a cute car to my house fast without a lot of hassle.

I wanted to make sure I could give my client my full attention over salads and not obsessively check the outside temperature, so I pulled the trigger and booked a rental. I opted for a fun little BMW. The hosts delivered the car to my house, parking it in the driveway and texting me it was here with the fob in the cup holder.

Now, if I were renting so much as a doghouse to someone, I’d want to meet them, inspect their nails, check out their shoes, look them in the eye, breathe in their aura, feel their vibe, really give them a once-over.

Yet in the two minutes it took me to find my shoes and go outside, the hosts had already left. I documented the car’s condition with my phone and the next day, I went to my client meeting.

All was well, salads were had, and it was a treat to drive a car with more modern technology. For example, I didn’t need a master’s degree in computer programming to get the Bluetooth to work and I was able to adjust the interior pinstripe lights. (I immediately switched them from vibrant purple to a more tasteful pale amber. Like, immediately.) I housed the car in the garage and that was the beginning and end of it. My meeting was great and I was able to concentrate on her, my delicious grilled salmon salad topper, and not having a panic attack if a saw a flake of snow.

The car was supposed to be picked up at noon today. A little before 10:00, I took all the requisite photos to show that I’d cared for it properly/respectfully/cautiously and had refilled the gas tank and I pulled it into the driveway. I texted the hosts to let them know they were welcome to come early if they wanted, since I wasn’t driving it any more. That way, they could turn it around quicker, like when you tell housekeeping when you’ve vacated your room and they can get a head-start on stripping the beds. Not necessary, but polite.

I also left it smelling better than when I’d gotten it, as someone had smoked a lot of weed inside it. A LOT. I left a diffuser of Lafco chamomile vanilla oil inside the whole time I had it, so it wouldn’t reek of a Phish concert when I picked up my client.

The hosts arrived at 12:00 and that’s where it got a little weird. The female host texted me to bring the fob out, instead of coming to my door. She did not want to inspect the car with me and wouldn’t look me in the eye. Odd. But she was youngish and no one under 35 knows how to do that shit anymore, except for my friend Lisa’s kids. I figured I was fine, as I’d documented everything; I was covered.

We exchanged a couple of messages on the app over the next 20 minutes where I reiterated I was happy and it was a fun little car. Surprisingly zippy torque for a four-cylinder. I left her a nice review, praising the process.

Two hours later, the host submitted a damage claim about a dented area on the right fender. I was like, “What? How??”

And then Turo sent a message that she was happy for us to settle this privately, instead of going through the insurance I’d purchased.

Um…

This is what she said I did:

Spidey senses activated, especially as this doesn’t look like a dent so much as a reflection of the tail lights of the car parked next to it.

Now, let me be clear; I will hit garage doors all damn day long with my vehicle. I am NOT GREAT at backing up and I have documented this in memoirs housed in the Library of Congress. I have hit door sides before and I will hit them again; this is a promise. I have a high garage door body count. My rear view mirrors are slutty for sweet, sweet door openings. And don’t even ask me about parking garages. But I hit nothing in this car, what with the backup cameras and me being extra careful.

I left the car in better condition than I’d received it and had it documented. And even if I had somehow fucked it up, I am the sucker who buys ALL THE INSURANCE, on top of what my own auto insurance covers. I am THAT GAL.

Also, here’s what the bumper looked like when I took my photo: