The Last Step Toward Assimilation, Part One

August 24, 2011

One of the last things I need to do in order to be as fully Canadian as possible without actually having citizenship is to get my British Columbia license plates (or tags, as some people call them).  I did get my official Canadian Health Care System card last week (free healthcare is mine, mine, mine (if I can ever actually get in to see a doctor)), so this is the last real hurdle I have to jump in order to be as settled in here as I can be.

So yesterday I took my car over to Canadian Tire to get the required provincial vehicle inspection.  Luckily, being here on a visitor visa puts me in an exempt status with the RIV (registrar of imported vehicles), meaning that I do not have to have a national inspection performed for bringing a car across international borders.  Though that does prevent me from ever selling my car here in Canada - but since I just got it, I don't see that as a problem.  One less inspection and fee is a-ok with me.

It's about an hour process, the inspection.  With Lisa at work, I have no choice but to sit and wait.  I bring a book, plop down in the waiting room, and wait.  About 20 minutes later, fella comes and grabs me.  Seems there are a few things that will need to get fixed.  As with any news of needed car repair, my stomach drops.

There is a broken bolt on my wheel (only 4 of 5 bolts are holding my wheel on - okay, a necessary repair).

There is a small brake fluid leak via a cracked gasket (again, a necessary repair).

Canada requires daytime running lights.  I need to have my headlights converted so that they stay on during the day.  My promise to just turn them on and keep them on is not enough, and I am forced to have the retro-fit done on my perfectly good and working headlights.

$650 worth of work - on a perfectly running vehicle.  I didn't have something go on the car and have to rush into the garage with an expectation of paying out the ying-yang on some hard-to-replace part that takes 10 hours of labour to install.  No, I simply wanted to get my license plates.

Six hundred and fifty dollars - gone.  Poof!

On top of that, I am told that this will take at least 4-5 hours to do.  Would I like a ride home?  Hell yes, you are taking my ass home, you socialist pick-pockets.  They paid for a cab to take me home.

A cab that smelled like a week-old dead chain-smoking hooker that drowned in a pool of her own vomit.  And cardboard pine-tree air freshener.  And curry.  I was positive I would drown in a pool of my own vomit before I could get home and out of that Satanmobile.  Of course, like all good Canadians (and especially one who was being paid by the minute by a big corporation) he drove 20 kph under the speed limit, weaving in and out of his lane as he played Angry Birds on his GPS monitor.

Dude sucked at Angry Birds.

I was told that my car would be ready when they opened at 8am if I had not heard otherwise (they'd call if there was an issue).  I hitched a ride with Lisa on her way to work and she dropped me off in front of the store.  I should have realized this was going to be a craptastic morning when I did not see my car in the parking lot.  Knowing there wasn't much she could do anyway, I sent Lisa off to work and trudged inside to retrieve my car.

"Yeah, well, we're missing a nut, "  says fella leaning lackadaisically on the grimy counter.

"So what does that mean, exactly?" 

"Means we're missing a nut.  Gotta replace the nut.  Then we're done."  He actually looks confused at my question.

"Okay," I say, my anger beginning to rise.  "Does that mean you've misplaced it?  Don't have it?  Have one here but can't find it?  Need to order one?  What exactly are you doing to fix the problem?"

"We're trying to find you a nut is what we're doin'.  Gotta wait for the dealership to open and call them up and see if they have one.  If not, we gotta find a universal nut to put on it."

"So why don't you just put the damned universal one on, if it is 'universal', and call it a day?  And why wasn't I called about this? [no 'aboot' this time - I was seething with American fury at this point]".

""Cause if they got the right one, we gots to use the right one.  I'll run over there and get it right now since you seem to be in a big hurry."  And he turns and walks away into the garage.

I stood there, literally dumbfounded.  You take my perfectly good car hostage overnight, ransom it for $650, and then accuse me of being rude when you idiots can't find the part you need for a job you said would be done by this time, and refuse to use the part you have because you really want an excuse to go run an errand in order to be able to stop off and get a latte?

It took them about half an hour to get the car fixed and ready to go.  There was one small sliver of silver lining when I checked out:  an opportunity to fill out an online customer service survey.  Oh, hell yes I am filling that out!

Alright, so I got my inspection.  I'm good to go.  I head over to the Capri Insurance Autoplan office a few blocks over, ready to get my new auto insurance and license plates.

Car title - check.
Inspection certificate - check.
Form 1 from Border Inspection Services - check.
Current insurance policy and coverage details - check.
BC drivers license - check.
Checkbook - check.
Letter of 8 year insurance history from prior/current insurance company - excuse me, what?

In order to get any kind of discount (there are no discounts given for multiple policies like we have now for both Lisa and I carrying auto policies plus renters insurance through one agent), you need to provide a letter of history stating that you filed no claims in the last 8 years for a 40% discount (30% for 6 years).

Son of a bitch.

The Capri office is only a few blocks from the lakefront, meaning as far across town from home as you can get.  I had thought yesterday I would have been able to get all of this done, until I got bushwacked by Canadian Tire.  Then I thought I'd get it all done first thing in the morning, seeing as I was already out and near the insurance office.  But noooooooooooooo.  We have to stretch this little exercise out a little longer.

I get home.  Lisa had actually gotten this letter from our insurance company.  I pull it up.

Balls.

It's only per the last year.  I have to call and get a new one.  After spending 10 minutes going in circles on a phone tree, I finally just push the palm of my hand into the keypad, hitting every button at once, hoping it will connect me to a real person (surprisingly enough, it does).  What should be an easy task actually takes 15 minutes because Lisa and I have different last names and we have had multiple cars insured over the years, with each car having a separate policy number attached.  Finally, fella says he has the letter ready and will email it to me.

And I should get it within the next 24-48 hours.

So instead of heading back downtown, excited to finally get my BC tags and complete my assimilation, I am instead heading to the fridge to grab a cold frosty alcoholic beverage and a fistful of ibuprofin, making this a "To Be Continued" cliffhanger.....




.