It was serious: I was wearing pants between Easter and Thanksgiving, violating the ‘Shorts Only’ dictum.
And I had shoes on, my crocs away for another day.
For my recent appearance in magistrate court, also known as small claims, where our AAMCO – well, former AAMCO, sold on 1/2/25 – was being sued for the extended time it took resolving an engine warranty issue.
A ‘Loss of Use’ claim, which I understood, having at least 3 body parts fitting that description.
The claim beginning 1/7, so ‘handled’ by the new owners, until it wasn’t.
The engine purchased from a local Ford dealer, eventually developing warranty covered issues, but the claim denied due to a missed replacement step. The tech believed the step unnecessary – then his time-eating research proved none of his Michigan family members had Ford influence.
On a more interesting note, his father used to sell drugs to George Clinton, the Godfather of Funk.
The plaintiff filed his claim after 91 days of waiting, the new owners no longer answering his daily calls, the filing finally making me aware of the issue, with a $15,000 damage request.
The new owners unwilling to buy a replacement engine, I authorized the purchase; 15 days later the successfully repaired car returned.
Having sued and been sued as an AAMCO owner, I’ve learned the only winners in court are lawyers, so attempted resolution pre-hearing.
I informed the suer I hadn’t been properly served – no longer owning the AAMCO where the papers were sheriff delivered – and there were Two AAMCOs, the new owners his appropriate target. And I’d sent a check for $225 for a promised diagnostic fee, with a letter explaining all that.
He seemed unimpressed with the ‘improperly served’ thing – though he’d apparently recently gotten a #12 instead of a #7 – and said $2000 would make it go away.
I guess I’ll see you in court…
My second call pretty much a repeat, with the same outcome: $2000 will make this go away.
I will see you in court…
Court ain’t what it used to be: people dressing nicer for air travel, or shoveling hay, but fortunately, no thong bathing suits – though Della Street was pretty hot, in a constitutional sort of way, of course.
Magistrate court begins with telling the judge your name when your case is called, which I nailed; we then accepted the offered mediation.
The mediation process allowing the opportunity to ‘tell your story’. After his rendition, concluding with a request for $5400 for a car he’d bought during the delay – it was my turn. My response dual themed:
- I wasn’t properly served, only showing up to make sure he wasn’t awarded the $15,000; The mediator said she’d also wrongly gotten a #12, so seemed sympathetic. And she thought it beat a conscientious objector plea.
- This was the tale of Two AAMCOs, he had the wrong one. That one seemed to work.
No solution in hand, we told our stories to the judge.
He never ruled on the ‘proper service’ issue, his server apparently bringing the correct combo meal, but Two AAMCOs struck a chord. And I made the plaintiff squirm with “You say you believe in God, yet you have no compulsion about teaching evolution!!”
And “Lawfare must stop!” even woke the weirdly sleeping bailiff.
I saved “You can’t handle the truth” for an appeal.
The decision: I won!
Removed from the case, but the case left active so he could sue the other AAMCO.
Victory in hand, went for a celebratory lunch, my #7 properly served and delicious!
For 311 more posts like this –each with a wish for order in the court! – go to beersatthenifty.com. Your phone will display every post, and you can waste an hour or two.
ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR WITH THE FOLLOWING ‘AGING HIPSTER MUSIC’:
Big Thief has a new album out, and what I’ve heard of it is good.