The Saga of the Little Red Metro
A Series
To the Terribly-Serious-and-Treat-Lightly-at-your Peril Complaints Dept.
Austin-Rover
Sun., 15th Oct. ’90.
The boring bit first- We bought an Austin Metro, March, ’85, from Appleyards of Harrogate. Had it serviced annually, first at Hannants, when we lived at Southrepps, later at J.S.Roll of Ludham, when we moved to Catfield, both garages being official Austin-Rover dealers. The last service was at Roll’s in May of this year.
Now it gets interesting- Friday 13th- a portentious date, two days ago, lumps started hanging, churning and tearing off the underside- two in fact- one 18”x6”, one 8”x5”. A male neighbour looked underneath and said “You want to get that straight to a garage, Missus” (I wasn’t there; I don’t drive; my wife is the driver)-“It’s not safe to drive”.
My wife immediately drove to Roll’s garage, Fri., late afternoon, and found one junior mechanic on his own. He looked underneath and said “I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t even know that we can repair it. I can’t do anything, now, but if you come back in the morning, Mr Roll will be here. I’ll tell him you’re coming”. When my wife asked if it was safe to drive home, he answered “Probably, but be very, very careful. Take it steady”
Later that evening, we checked the hand-book, service record, etc., and found that the corrosion warranty still has six months to run. Phew! A measure of relief. A reasonable night’s sleep- baring one unpleasantness which I will detail later.
Saturday morning, we are all (Aisha and me, boy John 7, and Miriam 3) in the dodgy car at Roll’s by 9 a.m. He Mr Roll himself lifted the carpets, swept the rainwater out thro’ the gaping, rusty holes in all 4 seat spaces, looked underneath, inspected the detached lumps, now lying in the boot, and muttered some gobbledegook about rust accumulating in pockets where you can’t see it until it blows something off. I then casually mentioned that the corrosion warranty still had 6 months to run, and he said, “Oh, then you ought to take it to an Austin-Rover dealer”
Six pause, then- Aisha-“But you’re a dealer!”
He, Mr Roll, himself- “Not now. When they were taken over by British Aerospace they withdrew most of the franchises in Norfolk. There used to be (a dozen or so names); now there’s only Norwich, Yarmouth (and maybe a couple more)”
So very carefully home we go to phone Mann Eggerton in Norwich. I relate the whole story, including Roll having done the last service after his Fall from Grace, to be told “Ah, if a service has been done by someone other than an approved dealer, then the warranty is null and void”. I mused lightly on this point for a short while, as you can imagine, and finally arranged to take the car into Norwich on Monday morning (more hazardous motoring) to see ‘the Warranty Man’- John Last.
I then phoned Appleyards in Harrogate for their observations. Mike Bowman said
“Strictly speaking, they were right about the warranty being invalidated, but that’s not your fault. You aren’t privy to Austin Rover’s franchising policy. You did what you were required to do; you took it to an approved dealer (initially, and later as you believed) as often as required to. If they refuse to give satisfaction, then ask for a second opinion from the factory engineer who visits regularly on a weekly or fortnightly basis”.
As you can imagine, within 36 hrs, I have been wound up to the pitch of looking for trouble. We live in the sticks, and without a reliable car from a reliable source, we might as well be living on a desert island. I’ve already had one going over. The unpleasantness I mentioned earlier? Friday night, Aisha had to miss the Panzergesellschaft Reunion Dinner, and I’ve got bruises to prove it.
On Monday I have to close my business for a day, to go to Mann Eggerton. How would you like to close Austin Rover for the day to wait in for the Gas Man? Too bloody true ‘it's not the same’ because if that happened, you’d still get paid in full, whereas on Monday, I won’t paint a 16 x 12 ‘Cormorants on Oby Mill, Sunrise’ which is £120 I eventually won’t get.
That’s why I’m not waiting for the factory engineer to tell me in two or three weeks time that the car is a write-off and its all my tough titty. I’m talking to you, now, because we need wheels yesterday, and if you’re really worth all that money you’re paid, then you’ll get on the phone to Mann Eggerton and tell them to treat me right, because if they don’t, then I declare war on you, and what that means is for me to know and for you to find out.
Actually, the car doesn’t have to be a write-off. You could sell it to somebody like Nissan- it would make a great ad. Imagine a full page in a national, with a photo of the underside of the car, with torn, bloody feet poking thro’ the jagged, rusty holes, and details of the car-
Austin Metro, purchased in ’84,
never involved in any collision, accident or miss-hap.
Looks like this in ’89.
Then a big double line caption, filling the bottom half of the page-
‘BYE METRO, BY BRITISH,
BUY NISSAN!
What do you think? I could do you a paste-up if you like. You can be thinking about that one. It can wait. What can’t wait is acknowledgement of this letter, that phone call to Mann Eggerton., and some sense out of somebody.Since I started writing this, I’ve noticed Aisha trying on her old SS cap again, in front of the hall mirror, while humming the ‘Horst Wessel to herself. This is bad news, believe me, and no way am I taking it all by myself.
Mayday, mayday, mayday !!!!!
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Silence
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To the Terribly Serious and Treat Lightly at your Peril Complaints Dept.,
Austin Rover, Cowley
Oct. 16th
Dear Stanley,
Here’s your update on the Mann Eggerton visit- we saw John Last, ‘the Warranty Man’ and first impressions were undeniably good. He listened to the story, including Roll’s excommunication, looked under the car, and said, and I quote yer actual verbatim words- “No way must that car go back on the road. That is a major structural fault”. I thought ‘Am I dreaming this?’
Back inside we went. Mr Last looked thro’ the service record book, and then said “I’ll phone the factory and see what they say”. Now I will admit that, with all this positive response, I was getting a little dizzy. I had to sit down for a while.
When Mr Last came back, he said “They’ve suggested we get it up on a ramp, inspect it thoroughly and see what is repairable, and then they’ll decide what to do”. Now although this also sounded promising, I did definitely hear a very faint, tiny, far-off warning bell. I’ll come back to that. I didn’t have time to dwell on it because Mr Last went on to enquire for a driver to take the car from where it was to where it needed to be for an inspection.
I then asked Mr Last if ‘The Factory’ were accepting my claim against the warranty, or were they going to shelter behind Roll’s ‘uncleanliness’ syndrome. He paused ever so slightly, then said “I think you’ll find it will be alright”. Before I could ponder on the degree of encouragement enshrined therein, he went on to explain that it would mean an insurance claim. I asked if that meant that failure to shape up was something you insured against, and he said “Yes”. I thought ‘Why is he telling me this?’ and that thought was accompanied by warning bell No2 – later.
Having made more progress with Mr Last than originally anticipated (he seemed surprisingly helpful land encouraging, but on reflection, he may just be highly skilled in mollifying and getting rid of people without making any promises whatsoever) we arranged a lift, and left.
Now, the warning bells. No 1. Remember Mr Last’s first utterance? ‘No way must that car go back on the road- that is a major structural fault’. Encouraging- unequivocal, but after speaking to the factory- ‘..they’ve suggested inspect it..and see what’s repairable’. Not quite so encouraging, and definitely bordering by comparison on the equivocal, whatever that means.
Warning bell No.2- Why tell me about the insurance? If I’m claiming against your supply of defective goods, I want non-defective goods in response. I don’t care a fish’s tit how it’s financed. I don’t care if it comes out of insurance, the Freemasons’(or Buffaloes’) Benevolent Fund, or out of the teapot on your dear old granny’s mantelpiece. But I don’t want a cheque, either. We can’t travel on a piece of paper. We need a car, like we paid for 5 yrs ago and like you are now in default of supplying.
However maybe I’m worrying unnecessarily. Perhaps it’s being married to Aisha what do it.
And that’s something else- I’ve said I was mollified, and I know Aisha was because, when we got home and she gave me my sauerkraut sandwich for lunch, there was butter on both slices of pumpernickel, and it's not even my week for butter! But don’t be misled by such generosity because I heard her later, on the phone to her old Afrika Korps driver, arranging to borrow a V.W. for the duration. Not worried? There’s more- she was also asking about half-tracks, and an adapted fitting on the sun roof to take her old Krupps V9 grenade rifle!
I suggest you take a big swig of hurry-up medicine, chase Mr Last for his verdict if you must, then tell him when you’ll deliver- a car like you owe- doesn’t have to be a new one- doesn’t have to be the same one- just a safe reliable one like we paid for, otherwise you’re going to look thro’ your office window one day soon, to see a cloud of dust approaching rapidly, and when it gets closer you’ll see a dark blue pennant whipping from an ariel , and when it gets close enough for you to make out the golden palm tree on the pennant, then like the air-raid wardens used to say, you should crawl under the table, stick your head between your knees, and kiss your arse goodbye.
Gezundheit!
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Austin Rover
Fri. 20th.
Have you died? You’ve had my letter three days now, and not even an acknowledgement, yet. Is old-fashioned courtesy not part of your mandate from your new Masters? Still, what can you expect from somebody who can’t make decent chocolate? A 4oz. bar with 2oz. of holes! Perhaps that’s what attracted British Aerospace to your mob; you seem to make car chassis on the same principle!
Now your factory engineer or mechanic was due to do a post- mortem on Wednesday- two days gone and not a peep out of him or you; not good enough Stanley, not good enough.
You can thank your lucky stars that Aisha’s gone off to Lowestoft,on manoeuvres at Pleasurewood Hills theme park for the week-end. Off she went in her stiletto jackboots, her Iron Cross just peeping under her white, shark-skin scarf (tied U-boat fashion) as it streamed over her shoulder, with her little sack of acorn coffee, her jar of pickled cabbage, and the ‘wings’ of her jodhpurs stuffed with freeze-dried horse schnitzel.
They have a high old time. They de-rail the miniature railway, they booby-trap the rope walk with lard, they invade the children’s zoo and stampede the tortoises, and if they catch any of the staff spying, they either stand him before an egg squad, or they feed him to the killer bunny. Then on the last night, they have a torch light rally, and flour-bomb the power station; well, it’s the Park Tea Rooms, actually.
Trouble is she’ll come home hyped up to the eyeballs, wanting my body, unless - I’ve just had a thought! In Lowestoft, she’s already cleared the 3 rivers- Bure, Yare and Waveney. She can mount a Blitzkrieg that bit easier and faster from Lowestoft than she can from Catfield, and she’s got a ready assembled task force! Manoeuvres- Hah! That’s what they said in the Rhineland; that’s what her uncle was saying on the Polish Border in August ’39.
Well Stanley, my little oven-ready turkey, my sacrificial little lamb, I think you should pick up an ‘Exchange & Mart’ and start cornering the market in tin hats and gas masks, but swift - unless you can come up with a safe, road-worthy motorcar.
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‘You did business with us recently…will you fill in this questionnaire… sales staff…office staff…after sales…poor, good, brilliant…further comments how can we improve..’ all that sort of stuff. Here is my reply, which includes the replacement car-
R.J.Stangroom
Marketing Director
Rover Cars
Dear Roger,
To say that I was surprised by your recent mail-shot regarding the customer survey, would be an understatement. I was very surprised, and very pleased.
I looked for your signature, smiled and said aloud “Roger, you have come to the right shop”.
“Why?” I hear you cry, and “Who is this pillock?”
Read the enclosed case history, Roger, and all will be revealed. Not now!
Wait until you get home, after a good supper, plenty of leg medicine, send the wife to bed, put the cover on the parrot’s cage. You favourite chair, a large port and brandy- a cigar, maybe?
Relax. Enjoy. Now- start reading-
(Copies of the previous three letters, then-)
All the fore-going copy was written at the time, ready to pass to my attourney, which proved to be unnecessary, as I shall now relate.
On Mon. Oct. 30th Aisha persuaded me (lighted match under the toe-nail, I think) to try Mr last once more, before contacting my solicitor- I did so. Mr Last eventually gave me a name and a number for Cowley. I rang and spoke to a very agreeable gentleman, and within the hour, we were negotiating the car which we now have. Mann Egerton to replace wings, front valance, exhaust pipe,(not a full service), transfer seat belts from old car, we to contribute £200 for low mileage.
We collected the car 2wks later. No rear seat belts.
Him: “Don’t know anything about that”.
After a search, the belts were handed to us in a bag.
Me: You’re supposed to fix them.
Him: “Don’t know anything about that” Eventually -“Can you come back in 2 days time; a mechanic will be available to fix them then”.
And so it was.
We drove away with a teaspoonful of petrol in the tank. At its first service this month, this decent, reasonable car ate up £250. Little gems like- no antifreeze. We’d still got the sticker- ‘Do not drain’- I don’t care how it happened; that’s the car you provided. With loss of earnings, sundry expenses, plus the excessive service, your company has cost me £1,092.40. A breakdown is available to you if you wish it. I haven’t included the £200 contribution; I’m a reasonable man.
Now Roger, (another port and brandy, I think) if you are serious when you say you want to care for your customers, then I shall look forward to receiving your reply; I shall be interested to see how long it takes; I shall be pleased to find a cheque enclosed for £1,092.40.
Bed time now, Roger. Night-night; sleep well.
You’ve got a big day tomorrow.
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Eventually, I received a miserable, tight-arsed reply (from a 3rd party, not Roger; he’d bottled out- fell at the first fence) on the lines of ‘they’d already provided us with a car, and so didn’t owe us anything, never mind £1,092.40.
The Saga of the Little Red Metro
The End
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