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More Cars



Okay, so last time, I had us in an Uber (finally) on our way to rent a car at Hertz. Which was at the airport. Because we couldn’t find a place to rent a car downtown. (You used to be able to rent cars at hotels. Whatever happened to that?) But, anyway, we were on our way...


Here’s a spoiler: things are not going to go our way.


And yes, I’m going to manfully resist the urge to take jokes about you always hertz the one you love. No need to thank me. Just the kind of stout-hearted guy I am. (1)


Anyway, there we were, and finally the Uber driver dropped us off at the car rental place. We unloaded our luggage (oy) and then we got Judy out of the heat and onto a seat inside the office. Then we approached the clerk at the service desk.



About the photos: First, nothing to do with the story but I like the picture, the two of us taking a selfie in the town of Hutto. Worth a visit if only to see the statues scattered about of the town’s mascot -- a hippo. No kidding. Long story and I’ll tell it sometime. Second, as proof that we finally did make it to Winfield, a shot from the garden in back of Judy’s apartment.






And third, finally a glimpse of what happens when a good Scot hears the word “bargain.” I call this “Loch Ness Dancer.”




Now, some more background. Martha has used Hertz for years. One of the reasons she uses the company is that Martha is Scots by heritage. And one of the reasons she rents from Hertz is that she gets the AAA discount. It isn’t a whole lot of money, but it *is* a discount. And Martha loves her discounts. Give her a discount and she gets all Highlands on you. There are bag pipes wailing in the distance, and large muscular guys with no necks are tossing telephone poles from Piscataway to Catskill(2), and the Loch Ness Monster (“Nessie” to her intimates) pops outta the loch to do the banshee disco Hustle.


In short, the quickest way to get her as a customer for life is to offer her a few dollars off. But...by like token...the best way to earn her deathless enmity is to offer a bargain, and then, somehow, wiggle out of it. (And yes, you can see what’s coming.)


We get to the desk, Martha identifies herself, and says that we’ve got a reservation, and we start going through the process of filling out the paperwork, and putting me on the reservation as another driver, and everything’s going fine...until...until...until...we come to the AAA discount.


Oh, no. You’re not getting that, says the clerk. No way. Uh-huh. In your dreams.


Wait. What?


Martha took the issue to her boss. Then her boss’s boss. Then her boss’s boss’s boss. But no progress, every step of the way, it was No Way, Jose. The story they all told was that you only got the AAA discount if you make the reservation through AAA’s website...which, to the best of our memory at least, was not the case. Whenever we’d rented through Hertz before, we’d just shown our AAA cards and our driver’s licenses, and everything was ducky.


But not today.


For a moment I thought there’s going to be bloodshed. But, eventually, Martha snarled twice, muttered something in Scots dialect that sounded like a three way car crash crossed with a concerto for un-tuned tubas (3) and we gave in to the inevitable.


After all, what else could we do? We still needed to get Judy to Winfield by Monday. We still needed a car if we were going to drive there. So...they sort of had us over a barrel, and I’m sort of guessing they knew that. Finally, I produced my Visa and we took what we could get.


Which isn’t to say that’s the whole end of the story. Martha will, of course, contact the company and complain. Again, it may accomplish nothing, but at least it may annoy someone.


But, anyway...once we had the car, we loaded up ALL our dang luggage, then everyone had to use the bathroom (again), then we had trouble figuring out how to start the car, and...and then...well, finally, we were on our way.


We found our way through Dallas’ insane traffic (think the movie “Death Race: Beyond Anarchy” but with big-assed, jacked up trucks driven by wanna be cowboys from the ‘burbs and you’ve got it). Then, suddenly, we were free.


We were on the open road.


Right, we said. Everything’s gonna be find from now on. Smooth sailing from here!


Say, are you picking up a pattern here? Why, yes. Yes you are.


More to come.



SPECIAL NOTE: Martha contacted the head office of Hertz and, amazingly enough, we got a refund for the extra cost of not using the AAA site. We never got an explanation, but at least we got some money back.


So, I guess, three cheers Hertz.




Footnotes:


1. Really. I’m da bomb. Maybe a stink bomb, but a bomb.


Seriously, here’s a link to info on the song itself: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You_Always_Hurt_the_One_You_Love. And here’s the Mills Brothers performing it: https://youtu.be/mS9U75YC-jA?si=BR4EH4f6T39PK7sM


2. A.k.a., “the caber toss.” Also known, if I were to try, as the “the guaranteed hernia getter,” but that’s another story. See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caber_toss


3. I’m not sure what she said, but it went on for several syllables and I noticed afterwards there was distinct smell of sulfur and the customer who came in after us was tall, green, and gruesome and saying something about having to rent a car for his day trip with Bean Nighe, Glaistig, and Baobhan Sith, and, oh, yes, that flock of Sluagh who’d been following him from the Hebrides


*




Copyright©2025 Michael Jay Tucker



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~mjt



Walking To Wimberley

Welcome to Wimberley, Texas—where the cypress trees lean over lazy rivers, the cowboy boots are ten feet tall (and painted like rainbows), and the coffee shops echo with guitars and gossip.

In Walking to Wimberley, Michael Jay Tucker invites you to join him on a meandering, thoughtful, and often hilarious journey through one of Texas’s most charming Hill Country towns. Based on his popular blog entries, this collection of travel essays explores Wimberley’s art, history, music, and mystery—with the dry wit of a seasoned traveler and the wide-eyed wonder of a first-time visitor.

 

Whether he’s hunting for the perfect taco, pondering the existential meaning of oversized footwear, or just trying to find parking on market day, Tucker brings Wimberley to life with style, warmth, and just a hint of mischief.

Come for the scenery. Stay for the stories. Bring your boots.

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