At 08:56 PM 6/19/96 -0500, you wrote:
>Flakey vendors have been a 98% buzz kill to my love for VWs and doing
>business in general!!!!!

This has been my favorite thing about having another, non-bus, car to get me
places when the bus is broken: not having to rely on people like this.

A couple of years ago, I began my annual pilgrimmage home with a light heart
and light wallet. I had finished finals and my first major repair--head
replacement--a couple of days before, and felt good about the way both had
gone. But being a poor student, the new heads had just about put me out of
cashola, and I was ready to go home to free room and board, a good job, and
mom's cookin'.

All was fine until I got to about 30 miles south of Cheyenne, Wyo.--2/3 done
with the journey, another 6 hours of driving ahead of me. I started to lose
power rapidly, and there was a loud clackety going on back there that I
thought might be the sound St. Muir describes for a broken ring. Great. Just
what I need. A broken ring after all that time and money on new heads. Had
to pay a wrecker $100 to get to Cheyenne.

Found, miraculously, a VW shop open (it was not only Cheyenne, Wyo., but
also Sunday) and the guy did a compression check. 95 on one, 80 on two, 50
on three and four. Not good. Come to find out that the reason I couldn't
find those copper gaskets Muir said would go between the head and pistons
was that I was supposed to lap them in. Permatex, I guess, wasn't good
enough. The shop owner was pretty impressed that I'd gotten as far as I had.
Well, I gave hime the key, took my bike out of the back, and found some
friends to stay with. Good thing, because motels would have gotten expensive
pretty quick.

This guy ignored my very professional phone calls for three days after the
agreed-upon finish date. I gave up on professionalism and left a message
telling him that I needed to be at work by now, and that I was going to lose
my job if he didn't get his butt (and my bus) in gear. No reply. Started
having friends drive me to the shop periodically, but no one was there. So I
left a note telling him that I would like to hear from him before I got
really worried (by this time a week had passed since I broke down) and
called a lawyer. I know, a little drastic maybe, but I was desperate.

So he called me the next night. And told me he didn't appreciate being
threatened and that he didn't have to do this work for me (WHAT?? YOU STILL
DON'T HAVE IT DONE???). He had a day job, and hadn't had a chance to get to
the shop in a couple of days, and I'd better just cool my jets. I didn't
bother to ask why he couldn't have just called me to tell me that. All I
asked was how much longer. He told me he'd stay up all night, just for me,
and get it done by seven the next morning.

I didn't believe that any more than I believed a breadloaf could go 90 mph,
and I fully expected to find the shop vacant the next morning. I decided
that my bus was leaving his shop at seven the next morning, whether he was
done or not. But seven rolled around, and miracle of miracles, he was there,
with my beloved Mabel, new pistons and cylinders (not _necessary_, but he
had assured me it wouldn't take any extra time, and I wasn't exactly anxious
to pull the engine again any time soon), lapped heads and all. Whew. Good
quality work, generally nice guy when you could get a hold of him, but JEEZ.
You'd think he was a brother-in-law doing work for free.

Ahhhh.. Feels good to get that off my chest after two years.