Renting a car

You call, you ask what cars are available, you ask how much they cost, and then you go in to collect. It's a simple process, right?

So I called... I asked for 4x4 versus sedan quotes. 10USD difference, per day. I ask if both models are available, yes the saloon is a Toyota Cresta and the RAV4 both immediately available. I ask what time they open... 8am to 5pm daily... and conclude by asking if we can come in first thing tomorrow morning. 

Yes, ma'am. No problem. 

Hakuna matatata. We hear that a lot. 

I arrived at 8:30 the next morning. The lady I had spoken to the day before was not in yet, neither were many of her colleagues. In fact, they were rather surprised to see me. They were even more surprised when I asked for the RAV4. 

"But you booked the saloon yesterday. The RAV4 is no longer available."

Um, no... that is not the conversation I had. I asked for costs on both, ended the conversation on the RAV4 and asked if we can come in to collect tomorrow. There was no booking of either model. I understood that would happen today. 

"No problem, no problem. The RAV4 is not here. You can have the saloon until tomorrow."

And so it was that I ended up driving a window-tinted shit-heap which I came to fondly refer to as the Gaddafi-mobiel, because I felt like it belonged in an African dictatorial parade. Come to think of it... a very real possibility in this car's past life. 

Along with the dodgy mafia-style tinted windows which meant I couldn't see out the rear view mirror in broad daylight... the boot didn't close properly; the bumper looked like it had been affixed with putty; the driver's window rolled down, but not up again; the wheels were only straight when the steering wheel was not (rather disconcerting); the speedometer didn't work; the accelerator stuck which meant you either couldn't push it down or you pushed it down HARD; and the driver's seat was stuck at the furthest position back, which meant I had to perch myself on the edge of the seat and lean forward in a classic granny-in-a-sunhat pose. 

In short, the Gaddafi-mobiel was frikken' awesome! It was so clapped-up and such a skedonk, that the security guards to our flat, who have come to know me quite well over the last week, were more than a little hesitant to allow my entry every time I rolled and spluttered into the driveway. 

True to the car company's word, our little RAV4 was available for collection this morning. And it is with rather a lot of relief that I am now driving Radi the Thunderer... whose windows, speedometer, accelerator, chair adjuster and aircon all work. Plus... no tinting, I can see out the back. Hoorah!