Ahhhh the luxury of driving a Range Rover…until the bitch breaks! Here is the story of my SUV turning into a hooptee! My hubby, family and I went to Buckhead Diner for lunch. Tiny suggestion to the chef… please bring back the white cheddar popcorn for the topping of tomato soup (Crack Soup I like to call it). I digress.
After lunch we all trickled out of the diner and into the valet line. My car was up in 2.2 seconds because my husband could have spit out the nail he was chewing and hit our SUV- it was that close. People there is no need for valet anywhere in Atlanta. Trust me we have plenty of room to park. Valet is a joke, but we all fall in line, literally, like the mannered southerner’s we are and pay up our 3-5.00 to the highschool kid on his blackberry everyday.
Soon after we started down Piedmont my SUV started hiccupping and farting and acting a fool. The hydraulics or whatever it is called was moving up and down like a dog in heat. “What the hell is going on?” I asked my hubby who was busy texting movie lines to his dork friend. “I don’t know babe. Let me find the manual.” By the time he found the manual, the english version, my SUV had dropped down and was sitting on its tires. It looked like I got the opposite of a lift kit. I rolled into Buckhead Land Rover trying to keep my couth while my Rover was burping, farting and humping trying its best to find a parking place to hump in private.
2500.00 and a day later my Rover is back to her uptight self. The amazing part is I made a new friend, Lauren in my hooptee debackle . She, yes she, was the customer service rep. Not only did she understand my burping, farting and humping language…she knew car Rover. She spoke about my SUV the way I speak about lasagna, with knowledge and shear passion. What a plus to have a female to deal with versus a greasy ass crack!