PARTS UNKNOWN
By Duncan
The weather is predicted to be stifling hot. However, the weather is the least of my problems. I have committed to repairing a seventeen-year-old two-seat vehicle I call “Mean Yellow.”
It’s not hard to understand why I call my 2007 two-seat convertible hot rod “Mean Yellow.” Duh! The car is painted bright yellow. In 2009, the Federal Government slaughtered the General Motors Pontiac Division. The recession of 2008 caused the demise of the Pontiac division. Pontiac developed the Solstice for model years 2006 through 2009. Pontiac also created a yellow and patented it “Mean Yellow.” The yellow appealed to me, and I bought the car based on its styling and color. Of course, this combination of body style and color is a personal choice.
Much like the curves and disposition of a beautiful woman. One man can look at a woman and not feel anything. Another man can look at the same woman and become possessed by her curves and style. As has been said, there is a lid for every pot. I loved this yellow “flash in the pan” called Solstice.
I enjoy travel and eating. Because I no longer ride a motorcycle, I have chosen four wheels with a convertible top instead of two wheels for my on-the-road adventures. The vehicle is my way of feeling the exhilaration of the wind running through my hair—no helmet needed here. Driving my Solstice is as close to riding a motorcycle as I can get without being on a motorcycle.
Over the last 17 years, I have tried to care for Mean Yellow like a Botanist takes care of his delicate orchids. Orchids represent adoration, strength, classic beauty, and charm, just like my Mean Yellow. Lately, however, I have noticed the ride could be smoother, meaning something is wearing out.
Mean Yellow keeps bouncing on the bottom of a very bumpy highway. With 100,000 plus miles on the odometer, I started thinking the shock absorbers may have come to the end of their life. I searched and found that, in most cases, shock absorbers should be replaced between 50,000 and 100,000 miles.
I entered the Car X Shop on Allisonville Road. It was busy, and I waited for my turn at the counter. Car X is a tire shop, but I wanted to see what the man behind the counter would tell me about replacing my shock absorbers. This was my first stop in compiling a plan to replace the worn shocks.
When it was my turn, the man looked at me and gave me a lukewarm smile. He was big and muscular, almost appearing to be a weightlifter. His arms were adorned with thousands of dollars of ink. It was obvious he embraced the tattoo look, and it made him feel … something. His smile and the burr haircut were the saving graces for me that made me feel he was approachable. It was obvious he was broadcasting he was a man’s man. He was definitely an in-charge kind of guy. I got the feeling he was a wealth of reliable information. This was going to be a positive experience.
“How can I help you?”
“I have a 2007 Yellow Pontiac Solstice sitting outside in your parking lot, and I would like to get an estimate on what it would cost to replace the shocks.”
He turned quickly and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the parking lot, noticed my vehicle, turned and asked,
“The yellow sports car?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t work on them. We will never be able to find parts for that car.”
“Really? Shocks for my vehicle. Are they not available from anywhere?”
“Sorry, we don’t work on that car!” There was more than a hint of authority in his voice.
He placed both hands on the counter and tilted his head slightly to the left. I recognized his semi-aggressive stance. He was not in the mood to justify his answer to me or anyone else. He had other more pressing challenges than standing there and arguing with someone who didn’t have a chance in hell of getting service from him or this service provider. I needed to swallow my pride and “Get Lost.” I left feeling I had my tail between my legs.
I walked to my vehicle, opened the door, hesitated, and looked inside. Was this experience the beginning of a dramatic three-act play, and would I be one of the lead characters in this melodrama? I had a funny feeling this repair would be more difficult than anticipated.
I slid my frame into the cockpit of Mean Yellow and grabbed the seat belt behind me. I pushed the clutch to the floor. My hand adjusted the five-speed gear shift to the neutral position; the engine came to life. The round leather knob sitting atop the shifter is slipped into the first position, the clutch is released, and ‘we’ slowly pull out of the parking lot. I had a lot of work ahead of me.
Of course, not repairing or replacing the shocks did come to mind. How long can I go with a bumpy ride on Indiana's finest highways? (Some of our roads might be considered primitive.) Yes, the thought of not replacing the shocks did cross my mind. What if I go to all this trouble and spend a lot of money, and someone hits me, and the insurance company totals the car?
Why would they total the car?
“We can’t find parts for your 17-year-old vehicle.”
Life is a gamble. No one knows what might happen tomorrow or even today. I could walk across the street and stumble and fall and end up in a hospital bed for months, trying to recover. And while in the hospital, I might get water on my lungs, and then they move me to hospice, and the next thing you know, a minister would be saying, “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”
Oh my goodness, that would be negative thinking on my part. Is this experience of being told to “get lost” causing this much pain? That’s not like me at all. “Live each day to its fullest.” I’m told. Well, give this grumpy old man a little slack, please.
Of course, one must consider the inevitable at a certain age. A little preplanning is required for that special day. After all, no one gets out of this world alive. As I sat in that special room with legal papers on the table, the funeral director said,
“What would you like us to say when you are laid to rest?”
“Look, he’s still alive!”
Yes, I've been to that table and made all the arrangements. It’s not the most pleasant check I have ever had to write. But, I’m told not to burden people (Dare I say, “Loved ones?”) left behind. My only saving grace will be the cliche used at funerals.
“Never speak ill of the dead.”
I’ve never been involved in politics; I should get a hall pass on “Speaking ill.”
Okay, back to real life.
I searched online, and I found many places that sell shock absorbers. I don’t understand how a guy can stand behind the counter and not know what I know. “We can’t find parts.” Common sense tells me they don’t want to work on my car. Parts are everywhere. Then there must be another reason.
If I think about it, my car is seventeen years old. How many seventeen-year-old Pontiac Solstices will they work on in a year? They want to sell “their shocks” at a handsome markup and are not obliged to buy them online, where I could check the price. In other words, “Mr. Duncan, we don’t need your vehicle to make a living.”
Then, I remembered the Walmart/Kroger versus Costco/Aldi store story. Walmart Super Stores carries almost 142,000 items. (By the way, Walmart doesn’t have shocks, either.) Kroger stocks about 40,000-50,000 items in its stores, Costco carries 4,000, and Aldi only carries 1,400. Each store is stocking the items that will move off the shelf as quickly as possible.
What are the odds that a car repair business can stock every part of every car on the road? Of course, the stock on the shelves needs to move as quickly as possible. It makes sense that a car repair place can only stock parts for the cars they see the most often. So, to keep Mean Yellow in tip-top shape, I need to swallow the reality of market dynamics. The other fact is that 99% of the market doesn’t love my car as much as I love my car.
General Motors made sixty-six thousand (66,000) Solstice from 2006 - 2009. And when you ask how many cars are on the roads today, you get a big number. At the end of 2023, two hundred-eight-eight million vehicles were on the streets of the United States. (288 M). So, where do I stand?
Mean Yellow is .0003% of all cars on the road—a very small percentage. Parts will always be a problem.
So, let me cut to the chase. If you are still with me to this point, which I doubt, I need to finish this story about my experience replacing shocks.
I decided to try another service provider, so I walked in and asked the same question.
Can you give me an estimate on replacing my shocks? Doug told me to come back early Friday. The cost is $600.00, and we will throw in an alignment. I assume he meant parts and Labor.
“Do you need my name for your appointment book?”
“No, just show up Friday.”
“Do you know the brand of shocks you will be using?”
“We use Monroe. Always go with a brand name. We use Monroe.”
On Friday morning, I walked into Midas Muffler and was greeted by Jennifer. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to have my shocks replaced.”
“I don’t know what you're talking about.”
I was here on Tuesday, and Doug told me to come back on Friday morning so I could get my shocks replaced. Jennifer began gathering information: name, address, phone number, email address, make and model of car. She then realized what my car was.
“I’m not sure I can find shocks for that car. I will check in a while, give you a call, and let you know.”
I received a call from Jennifer two hours later. “Parts were unavailable for my car.”
I went back to the shop and took position of my car. I asked Jennifer if I could find parts online. Will Midas install the shocks on my car?”
She said she would.
It’s now about 2:00 in the afternoon on a Friday.
I began a search online for shocks. I called three online part stores but had yet to be successful. The third place asked if I had called Summit Racing.
I called Summit Racing, and a very nice woman began punching the keys on her computer. I asked her where she was located. She said she was talking to me from Sparks, Nevada. But they have warehouses in Tallmadge, Ohio; Sparks, Nevada; McDonough, Georgia; and Arlington, Texas.
“I have factory shocks for your car. They’re not racing shocks, however.”
I asked what “factory shocks” meant to her. She explained that Summit supplies racing equipment to its primary market. The shocks she had in inventory were factory shocks, just like those that came with your Pontiac when it came off the assembly line.
“We can ship them to you in one to two days.”
“How much are the shocks?”
“Two front and two back, with tax $378.74.”
“Are you sure they will fit?”
“Yes, I’m sure the box will have all the necessary parts to fit your car.”
Late Friday afternoon, I called Jennifer and told her I had found the shocks.
“I found them at Summit Racing.”
“Oh, yes, that’s a good company. We know them well.”
I had to ask. “Why can’t you call Summit and order shocks? Why tell me or other customers you can’t get the parts?”
“The Midas company won’t allow us to use anything other than our stock parts. When the customer brings them in, we can install them.”
I called Summit Racing and asked them to send me the shocks. I placed my order on Friday afternoon, and the box with the shocks arrived on Saturday at about 5:00 PM.
I drove to Midas on Monday morning. The front door was locked. I stood outside and waited for someone to come to the door. Doug opened the door and asked, "How can I help you?"
“I’m here to have my shocks replaced.”
Doug went to the computer, and I stopped him and suggested that the paperwork was already in your shop. He turned and looked around and found something on the back counter.
“What’s your name?”
“Duncan.”
He found the paper, went to the computer, and adjusted the name on the order form to reflect his name instead of Jennifer's. Doug said Jennifer had an emergency this morning. I explained that I had the shocks in a box in my car. Did he want me to bring them into the shop?
“Where did you get them? I sure hope they have all the right parts.”
“They came from Summit Racing.”
“I don’t trust any online auto parts store.”
Doug said he would look at them and call me. What was there to do other than wait?
I got a call from Doug at about 1:00 p.m., five hours after I dropped off the car.
“The shocks look like they will work. I need the car overnight. This is an 8-9-hour job. The cost to replace the shocks will be $1,500.”
For those who don’t have a calculator handy, that’s labor at $187.00 an hour.
I’m going to end the story here. You can decide what you think I should do.
The comment section is below.
