My dies horribilis

My dies horribilis, Monday 19 September 2022, began OK - check-out from the MGM Grand Hotel and cab to the airport area - but started to go downhill when we got to the Alamo car rental place.

The rental was pre-paid and I was surprised to be asked ‘did I want roadside assistance cover?’. I assumed this was included, as it had been on previous visits to the States. (Or has it…?) After a quick confab we said ‘yes’, in spite of the considerable added cost.

We picked a RAV4 from the line of available vehicles in section 5 of the lot since we’d had one of these before. But I had to get help to start it. It did start first time for the attendant - but she had to place the key right next to the ‘Start” button. (I.e. she knew damn well that the key’s battery was flat. Not being used to a push-button starter, this wasn’t obvious to me. IMHO Alamo let us down badly by sending us off without a functioning car key.)

No matter - we were mobile and the weather was good and I was looking forward to the day’s drive to the Grand Canyon Village and seeing how the landscape changed over the next 280 miles.

The problem with the key became obvious at our first stop - no amount of key fob pressing would lock the doors. I was faced with the prospect of either not locking the car with all our luggage in it or one of us staying with it. And then finding a place that sold batteries and somehow, without any tools, getting the fob open and replacing the dud one. But eventually we found a roundabout method to get all the doors locked without the key - and then to get one open with the physical key (which I found accidentally, folded inside the fob).

We did about 100 miles down the 93 to Kingman when I decided it was time that I sorted out how to engage the cruise control facility. After finding a car park and sussing how to lock the wretched vehicle we explored a Route 66 Visitor Centre and had a fine lunch at a roadside diner next to a magnificent locomotive. On reflection this was the best part of the day.

By about 1:30 we were humming east along the I40 but I soon realised I had forgotten to look up the cruise control instructions. The problem was - there are very few places to pull off or to stop and by the time we reached the Seligman turn (70 miles) my right ankle was fairly screaming for a rest. I took the slip road and pulled into the first parking area. (At this point I should confess that I slightly missed the entrance and did mount the kerb on one side of the car, with a definite scrape.)

It was simple enough to work out the cruise control, so freshly confident, I set off back towards the interstate …but was alarmed to hear a scary clunking sound from below. We agreed this wasn’t right, and there was a filling station/shop just before the slip road back onto the I40 so I turned in and stopped. A large sheet of (plastic?) something was flapping about underneath the car!

At home I’d have stuck it to the chassis with a bunch of duck tape and driven home - but this was a hire car and I was wary of making the damage worse. I called the roadside assistance number, which appeared to be fielded by a part-timer in her kitchen, probably somewhere in Alaska or Maine. The options were to drive the vehicle to the nearest Alamo office (Flagstaff, 78 miles) or wait for a recovery vehicle. I opted for the latter and the agent said she’d get onto it and would call me back. Fortunately there’s a Subway and a place to sit and eat there and the staff are very helpful in talking to the agent to say exactly where we are. Because my phone was very likely to let us down I gave the filling station’s contact number.

Somewhat annoyingly, I found that the shop actually sold duck tape!

We got a coffee and waited. After 40 minutes nobody had rung back so I rang again, got another agent (the first one had, presumably, gone to fetch her kids from school) who couldn’t find a record of our previous call(!). She said she would arrange a recovery vehicle and “try to find a taxi driver who is willing to come and pick us up and take us to Flagstaff”(!). The idea of a mechanic coming to get us going again appeared to be totally unheard of!

It was about 5pm before another agent rang the filling station to say a taxi was on its way and I was to leave the rental car’s key in the glove compartment. I was assured that the Alamo base at Flagstaff airport had a car waiting for us. Needless to say we were thoroughly fed up with waiting in limbo by now and the thought that the taxi was 78 miles away didn’t help.

At last, around 6:30 pm, we were on our way. It was a huge weight off to be moving again and I was also relieved to learn that the ride was paid for. Thank god we paid for roadside recovery this morning! But C was now worried that the lodge in Grand Canyon Village would be closed by the time we got there. Should we look at staying a night in Flagstaff?

Our sense of relief crashed to the ground when we got to the Alamo desk at Flagstaff airport. Far from there being a car ready for us, we’re met with “sit over there and we’ll try and help once the next flight has come in and we’ve dealt with that”!

An hour later and the flight had come in; all the passengers have gone …and we were still sitting waiting. I decided to go over to the desk: “Are you going to help us?”. “Yes I’m about to go and see what we’ve got”. I naively assumed they know what vehicles they have available(!) and also that, at a small airport, they will be fairly nearby. No and no. He disappeared off somewhere in a car - leaving us hoping it isn’t his dinner time. Eventually he came back and booked us out the replacement vehicle, which is both bigger and more powerful than the RAV4, but at this point I didn’t care; I would have driven off in an Abrams battle tank.

At no point had anyone from Alamo apologised for (a) the first vehicle letting us down (they don’t know I pranged it) or (b) for the horrendous delay in getting us back on the road.

Now I had the prospect of a 90 mile drive to Grand Canyon Village - in a strange car which has not been serviced (rubbish in the footwell, tank only half full), in the dark, on strange roads, through an unknown landscape. The first 10 minutes are awful: even with the TomTom helping I am almost paralysed with anxiety and barely exceed 30mph, but it gradually gets better. (At no point during the day did  C offer to drive!)

At last, at around 11:30 pm, we roll into the car park at Yavapai Lodge and check in. A 280 mile journey has taken 13 hours. C made the booking so it’s her that signs the card and takes the key. The lady on the desk is very friendly - she welcomes us and explains the options for breakfast and where the Canyon free bus stops.

As we turn to leave she calls “You ladies have a great stay”.