Señor Idiot has stated that I have had a moventure in my travels from the state of friendship to eureka. He speaks the truth, and there are a number of topics to espouse upon. The easiest to document involves the loss of a twelve-year-old friend, as I mentioned previously.

Skip back to mid-December, 2008. I need to get my 1997 Saturn SL2 across country, and do not want to drive because of reasons. The relocation company, Bristol Global Mobility, had it in their budget to handle this sort of task, so I took them up on it. It was advertised that the delivery would take up to 14 days, so I decided to have it picked up on Dec 19. The idea was that by the time my wife and I left Dallas for vacation and got back to the Valley on Jan 1, then we’d arrive about the same time as the delivery and could skip renting a car. If the car made better time, I was told that it could be held in storage for a short time.

Bristol does not handle the actual auto relocation themselves, so they subcontracted the job out to An Accurate Auto Carrier, or AAAC. Once these guys picked up the contract, it’s subcontracted out again to Outlaw Auto Transport. Outlaw called me a few days before pickup to let me know they were going to deliver my Saturn before Christmas and it would be very helpful to drop it off rather than find storage for it.

Alright sure, it will not take much for me to make their jobs easier. I got in touch with my new co-worker Gary* (fictitious name to protect the innocent) to sign for the car and campus security to get permission to store the car at the office over the Christmas break.  At this point, everything sounds cool. A tow-truck is sent to my apartment in Dallas and picks up the car with no issues.

Fast forward past early Christmas celebrations, the apartment getting boxed up, a flight to Zurich, more Christmas, a flight back to Dallas, and a horrifying flight for the cats with us to San Jose on New Year’s Day, 2009. That night, I drop the wife and cats off at the hotel and continue on in the cab to the office to collect my car. “Oh sweet car, sitting low on the ground, sport tires, good speakers, I can’t wait to drive you again.” (The Ford Focus rental is not a driver’s car.)

It had been chilly, foggy, and frosty in the area around this time. The cab lets me off on the other side of the company campus, and I hoof it over to the garage. There’s the Saturn, on the first floor of the garage, just like Gary* had said.

“Geez it’s dirty. That’s okay I still love you,” I thought walking briskly toward it. Over 1780 miles, I suppose a car can collect a lot of dirt.

Hitting unlock on the fob, the lights inside seem dim. I punch the button again making sure the battery is not dead. “Gotta be the condensation...”

Given the height of the roof, I saw the damage as soon as I got around to the driver side to open the door. The roof was scratched and the sunroof was shattered. Opening the door, I discovered thick chunks of sunroof glass collecting in the dome light and blanketing the seats, but also a pink sheet of paper sitting on the passenger seat, an invoice from Outlaw Auto Transport. It describes everything as normal except “SUNROOF BROKEN IN TRANSIT. PLEASE FOLLOW CLAIM PROCEDURES*”.

What a complete bunch of crap.

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