The Trip

Here's the story:

For a year I've been planning a trip to go backpacking in Banff or along the BC coast. I prepared for the trip, packing packs, preparing food, etc. for two days before we left (Saturday morning). I was super excited to get out of this state. I had thought of it several times during the past year- travel to Colorado, Florida or California, but it never worked out for one reason or another.

So this time I was actually going. Yippee!! I took my car to Jiffy Lube the day before to make sure everything was A-OK. As those of you familiar with Jiffy Lube services, they pretty much always try to upsell you, even if you don't necessarily need something. It's not usually too much pressure or anything. This time I needed an air filter. Pretty standard, the one I had was dirty and I remembered I hadn't changed mine for a while. (Sometimes I think they grab an old dirty air filter or worn out wiper blades and tell you that it's yours so you will change it- I'm a bit of a conspiracy theorist, I guess). So I told them to go ahead and change it.

I went back in the waiting room and sat there reading along with one other woman. A few minutes later, the man that sold me the air filter came in and apologized- they didn't have an air filter. It was 11 am, and Jiffy Lube had run out of something as standard as air filters. Not only that, but the lady next to me said they told her the same thing a while earlier. So it wasn't just my model car, but several models of air filters were out. At 11 am. Good job stocking, Jiffy Lube.

Any way, the lady and I laughed about their upsell failure then she began telling me about her Jiffy Lube history. She explained that one time she came in and had a few things done in addition to the oil change. By the time she got home, she noticed a few strange things. Her husband looked at the car and angrily said she was not allowed to get anything but a simple oil change from Jiffy Lube because they had forgotten to attach several things back on. I related a couple of similar stories where they didn't put the cover back on my battery and engine block, so it rattled around at strange times and made me worried until I figured out covers were not put back on, or the time when they rotated my tires but left my rim key on the ground in the parking lot, which, if I had not come back after realizing it was not put back in my car, would have made it nearly impossible to ever change my tires. Good job Jiffy Lube!

So you may see where this is going. I thought everything was good and ready to go with my car in good shape (they said everything looks good- checked fluids, brakes (?) and tires). The next morning I packed up the car and headed out.

Now the highway is pretty nice up until a few minutes north of Tremonton, in northern Utah. I was nearly to the Idaho border (notice how I STILL was not out of the state) when the highway changed into concrete blocks with those little black seams between the blocks at regular intervals. I noticed a loud noise (clack clack clack) as soon as I hit that concrete, but I kinda tossed it off at first as the material in the road had changed. However, I couldn't comfortably drive with the noise being so loud. Something was not quite right. I pulled over on an exit road jumped out to check the tires. They were great. I knew it had to be something, however, so I took a look under the car. Lo and behold, there was the problem. My car's undercarriage protector (Mazda 3's all have them- a big piece of plastic under the car) was dragging on the ground, secured only at the top of the car. Good job, Jiffy Lube! (You're not really thinking they're winners, are you? Because this is all sarcasm.)

I was a little frustrated, but since I had made such good time up there, I thought I could stand to stop somewhere to get something that simple fixed. And I was glad it was simple.

I was in a town called Riverside (or something River), and there were no stations there to get the car looked at, but a nice local had heard me pull up and asked me if I needed help getting that "Gosh awful noise on my car" fixed. He pointed me in the direction to go, saying "head down a few miles down this here road, and turn this way (motioning with his arm) at the four way stop."

I headed down that there road for about five or so minutes and then headed into the bustling town of Tremonton. I spotted a Big-O tire on the north side of the road and promptly pulled in. The guys there were great. They said they would try to fix it by zip-tying it up if they were able. Otherwise, they would take it off and bag it up for me, all free of charge. Meanwhile, I'm calling Jiffy Lube to tell them they are paying for this. And it won't be pretty for them. (I like to think I can be so aggressive.)

Ok, you're right. I wasn't so aggressive. I just told them they needed to pay for the piece to be tied back up.

Well, about an hour later, Big-O came in with the piece bagged up, saying it was a goner. I called Jiffy Lube back and talked to the assistant manager, who said he didn't know what they could do, but to call the main manager, Tyler, when I got back from Canada.

After thanking Big-O many times for their help and free service, I headed back up to the highway (after being lead astray a bit) and were back on the highway about 15 minutes after leaving the shop. Grrr.... I had lost a lot of time on my already short trip and I was not too happy with Jiffy Lube about it.

As soon as I was back on the highway, going a very reasonable speed, I start hearing the same terrible noise but much louder than before. I could even feel it under my feet. I won't tell you what I was thinking the moment I pulled my car over again. I looked underneath, at the tires, etc, but could see nothing. I started up again, and as soon as the cruising speed was reached I heard that same awful noise. "That's it!" I yelled. I pulled around illegally in the cop's turnabout and sped back to Tremonton, another twenty minutes of back tracking. "My trip is canceled" I thought. Maybe I yelled it, actually.

I never made it to the Idaho border = I never left the state.

Back at Big-O, they explained, after listening to my rendition of the noise and checking things out for themselves, that the piece that they took off actually held other pieces in place. So when they took it off, there were two plastic pieces that now were flapping hard in the wind. This was what was causing the noise. If I could put up with it- all the way into Canada and back...

As he was explaining this, he looked down at the tires on my car and stopped suddenly. "Fred!" (an alias, don't actually remember the guy's name) "turn that steering wheel real quick so I can see these tires better."

Great. Now what?

Well, the interior of the tires were completely bald. All four. It looked as though, as Spencer explained later, that my car had only been riding on about an inch and a half of each tire. Not only that, but the plugs were showing up where I had gotten some nail puncture patched (by some 17 year old kid at a Sinclair gas station last year). The plugs were looked as though they were about to come right out- all expanded and completely visible.

So the tires all needed to go. The cheapest they had there for tires for the size rims I had would run about $360. And to think... at Jiffy Lube I had been told everything looked fine. And to think, I had thought of changing the tires over to my summer tires before I left, but hadn't because Jiffy Lube said everything was cool.

Good job, Jiffy Lube.

I couldn't even speak on the trip out of there. I couldn't say a word. Within minutes of the state border, and foiled!!! My long awaited and planned trip, spoiled! I sincerely hope you appreciate the utterly dismal state I was in. The girl who lived for road trips before gas prices put an abrupt halt to her travels had had a chance to go to Canada after more than a year of captive life. Crushing. Crushing.

I swore, in my anger, that I would have vengeance on Jiffy Lube on 4th South.

Let's not forget that it is summer, which certainly isn't helping things.

I threw myself on my bed once at home and stayed there until I felt I could be somewhat civil and face the world again. I was offered a trip somewhere closer or camping for the weekend in the Uintas, etc. Heck NO! I wouldn't have it. It was Canada or nothing. I would not settle.

I called Spencer and Candi to see if we could use their tools to change the tires on my car. While talking to Spencer and relating the story, I actually began to feel better. It helps that Spencer was not actually in the situation and was able to find some humor in it. I started laughing about it a bit.

I am heading Canada on Wednesday and this time come flooding torrents of highwaters, I'll make it.