I had been completely mistaken about Pepecar. I had ripped it to shreds based on mostly unfounded rumors and vague reputations and had tossed it aside it from nearly the beginning. But there I was, plodding out of a garage in a spanking new Yaris (once I got it started) and on my way to ttack the roads. 15 seconds later I finally caught the sons-of-guns on a big fat old lie – they said a full tank but the gauge indicated half; that’s a 30 euro discrepency! I knew it. I just knew it. I wasn’t going to let them get away with this. I turned around and parked the car outside the garage. I marched in the office and informed them of the problem. The agent ran out and crossed the street. Then she took a look and gave me credit for being right. “Are you sure?” I double-checked.
“Absolutely. I put this into the computer when I get back in.” Then she signed the paper as proof. She was just plain nice and made the start to my trip hassle-free. OK. Fine. Everyone makes a mistake, but a person needs to know how to admit it. Pepecar did a first-rate job, or at least they didn’t perform any worse than the competition. So chalk that one up for ignorance on my part, laced with a lot of stupidity.
We went up the highway towards Burgos, also known as the A-1, and did so in a hurry but without exceeding the limits of the law, the Yaris wasn’t capable of doing much more, and tried to get to Guadalix as fast as possible in order to pic up my daughter’s friend and in passing visit the legendary square where the great speech by actor Pepe Isbert took place in the movie Bienvenido Mr. Marshall. I was quite excited about making the visit and trying to get my kids invlved too, but they were in the midst of putting on their own rendition of the six years of World War II in the backseat, and I have to admit it was a helluvah performance.
Soon enough, we were pulling into town.
