Dealership Jail

So I bought a new car last year from Honda with the help of my best man, or skull boy- for those of you that remember, so out of a sense of loyalty to him I take my SUV to be repaired to him. Even though there is a dealership not more than a mile from our condo. Now because of the need for an oil change and a wash I am in Dealership Jail. Also known as the waiting room, complete with bad TV that no one will let you change but no one likes, Fox News, and some young kids who are addicted to sugar running around at flank speed while their parents just stare off into space. Why do I stay here and endure it, because there is a free hot-spot in here and it allows me to catch up on my blogging and the blog roll. Oh I almost forgot the annoying cell phone ringtones that split right through your train of thought.

Of course my time here could be worse, I could be waiting for them to track down a noise the I can only hear, and I could be sitting in Jail for the whole day, only to find that the part needs to be ordered from Germany. That or taking my mom's old car in for service were the worst experiences ever. And the trip for my mom really sucked. The water pump needed to be replace on her car and the two replacements came out damaged from the warehouse. I sat at that dealership from 7am till 9pm, open to close, while the car was fixed.

I loove Dealership Jail.