That Time I Overpaid for a Yaris, Because Any Payment for a Yaris Is an Overpayment

I decided that the best course of action for Lizzi's whirlwind visit to the midwest was to rent a car for the 14 hours of drive-time and to spend the night in a hotel in St. Louis, where we were to meet Dyanne for the next leg of Lizzi's trip across America.

I chose not to bother our family vacation planner (Bryan) with the details. Even though I am not one who prefers making reservations (no plans being my go-to choice for travel), as a grown woman, I figured I could handle this one on my own.

I was wrong.

The rental car to which I was assigned...

- had crank windows.

- was approximately the size of a kids' Barbie Jeep.

- but without the cool color, pretend phone, and convertible features

- had only one windshield wiper. Not because one was broken, but because the car (and thus the windshield) was so small, only one wiper was needed.

- had a teeny, tiny antennae that only picked up signals within a 10 mile radius (Basically I could listen to about 4 songs before I lost the station.)
- didn't have a key fob, but simply a key. No pushing a button to lock and unlock these doors!

- didn't have cruise control.

"Didn't you read the car descriptions when you reserved it?? Why didn't you pay the few dollars to upgrade?" laughed my know-it-all, pompous husband.

"Because I didn't know this kind of car was a possibility!!! Who rents a car that is WORSE than the car they normally drive??" I shrieked. "And so help me if you answer that rhetorical question..."

"Well, I can't wait to see how that cheap hotel reservation you made for the southeast side of St. Louis works out!" 

Bryan was having way too much fun with this turn of events.

How did the car work out you ask?

Well, I got Lizzi to all the places she needed to go safely and on time. That's the good news. The bad news is I irritated just about everyone on I-74, I-55, and I-70 during those three days. I became the annoying person who won't stay a consistent speed, but instead speeds up, passes people, moves into the slow lane, and slows down enough to force the drivers behind her to hit his brakes and mess up their own cruise control before passing her and giving her dirty looks as they do so.

The crappy car became the theme of the visit. 

For example, at one point during our drive through Middle of Nowhere, Illinois, Lizzi made the comment, "I want to buy a lottery ticket at some point."

I replied, "Easy enough! You can get one at any gas station!" This sentence triggered my subconscious, and I took a glance at my gas gauge. 

It was on E.

E for empty.

Not almost to E.

Not a tick away from E.

On E.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!!! HOW SMALL IS THIS GAS TANK!??! WHEN WE LEFT THE HOUSE AN HOUR AGO, THERE WAS HALF A TANK!!"

After an exhilarating 5 miles of desperate searching, we found a gas station, where I discovered the car had a nine-gallon tank. Nine. Single digit nine. NINE! 

While the adrenaline was still pumping through us, Lizzi went ahead and bought her lottery ticket. A dollar Royal King scratch-off. 

She lost.

Probably because we used up all of her luck on the lack of gas situation.

But the best story comes from Monday when I was all alone driving home from St. Louis.

On Monday morning, I left Lizzi and Dyanne early in the morning to make my way home before school pick-up. Since I had no one to talk to, I was very careful to watch my speed. For most of the trip, I kept it to 2 mph under the speed limit, as there were lots and lots of policemen out, and I didn't want to get nabbed for accidentally going 80.

An hour and a half into the drive, I noticed a blue car traveling behind me. I thought it was odd that a car chose to go 68 in a 70 zone instead of going around me. Then I saw the police car pull into the left lane. It also was going 68 mph with us, driving just a bit behind the blue car, but staying in the left lane.

After several disconcerting miles of this, the policeman finally turned on his lights and got behind the blue car. I was very curious to know what the guy in the blue car had done, but mostly I was glad it wasn't me he was tracking.

And then...

Less than 2 minutes later another policeman pulled up and did the same thing to me.

I pulled over, turned the car off, rolled/cranked my window down, and gathered my info. Driver's license out of my wallet. Rental car info out of my purse. 

When I looked up to see if the policeman was making his way to my window yet, I realized that police protocol had changed since the last time I was pulled over on the freeway 20 years ago.

The guy was on the passenger side waiting for me to roll the window down.

Picture it now.

Me. 

In a rental car.

With crank windows.

A policeman.

At my passenger window.

Patiently waiting to talk with me.

"OH! Sorry Officer! Hold on a quick couple of minutes while I try to reach...Oh, wait. Need to unbuckle first...Now I can leeeeeeean over and reeeeeach for that handle...Good thing this car is so small, huh? Haha. And that I have freakishly long arms. Ha. Haha. I suppose you want me to roll is all the way down...yes?...OK...almost there...little bit more...THERE! What can I do for you, Officer?"

*blink*blink* smile *blink*

Him: "Good morning. First off, I was not the officer to see the infraction. My colleague called me in. He said you changed lanes without signalling. He was actually surprised, since you did it right in front of him. Some drivers do that on purpose in a blatant attempt to obstruct an officer. We're just trying to keep the roads safe."

It didn't take me half a second to put it all together.

Remember when the policeman was going 68 mph and staying right behind the blue car? Well, during those few miles, a semi was broken down on the right shoulder of the road. Being the good driver that I am, I switched to the right lane to give the semi some room. I even had the thought, "See, Officer, I'm being safe here on the freeway!" Also being the good driver I am, I also signaled. Well, I thought I signaled. In MY cars, I only have to hold the turn signal partway down to get the light blinking. Apparently that is not the case in the rental.

Me: "I signaled! This is a cheap rental car! Did you see that I signaled when you pulled me over?!?! Did I mention it's a cheap rental car?! Without cruise control??"

Him:

Me:

Him: "May I have your license and rental paperwork? I'm not planning on giving you a citation, as long as nothing shows up when I run this."

Nothing showed up.

Whew.

Him: "I'm just giving you a warning. Just sign here so my boss knows I'm out working to keep the roads safe."

He went back to his cruiser. I put my paperwork and license away.

I leeeeeeaned over and streeeeeetched to reach the knob to roll my window back up.

And then I was once again on my way.

Listening to static on the radio.

Going slower than the speed limit.

Compulsively using my turn signal, but sometimes forgetting to click it back off.

Basically, the car turned me into my 90-year old grandma for the remaining 12 hours I had it.

BUT, because I know you're wondering, the cheap hotel turned out to be marvelous!

Sure, it had corn fields on two sides of the building and nothing but a couple of gas stations and fast food joints nearby, but it was a two-bedroom suite for less than $100.

SCORE!

What is your track record with rentals? Ever get a lemon?

Have a lovely day!