Tag: Breakdown

A Mental Breakdown. Part III

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From: Will Nicholl <willaccio@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, 20 Apr 2021 at 01:58
Subject: Criminal conduct.
To: customerservice@ExxxCar.com.ec; and CEO Caroline Pxxxx <caroline.Pxxxx@ExxxCar.com>

Dear Customer Services,

We have had the worst experience that is possible with your company. It is bordering on criminal. You have stolen money from us. I’m not sure if ExxxCar Ecuador is genuinely part of ExxxCar or some dodgy franchise, but it is certainly bringing the ExxxCar brand into disrepute.

This is what happened to us:
1. We booked a Chevrolet Vitara SUV for 17 days from ExxxCar Ecuador (19th March to the 2nd April) at a very expensive rate. We wanted to go with a reputable brand so we chose ExxxCar – big mistake.
2. When we came to pick it up we were told you only had a Kia Rio saloon instead. We complained. The office then exchanged our vehicle a day later for an old Hyundai H1 Minivan.
3. This vehicle was ancient. The right side door didn’t open, it had rust spots all over. It lacked power, the gears stuck, the alarm kept shorting. It had 207,000 km on the clock.
4. We complained twice about the poor quality of the vehicle and the agent said he would raise our complaint with Customer Services. We didn’t hear anything back.
5. The vehicle then abruptly broke down on the side of the road near Quilotoa. This was 30th April. I had to leave my wife and two children alone on the side of the road as evening fell and hitch hike off in a melon truck to get help. It cost us $70 to get the broken van towed back to our hotel. A ExxxCar agent then came the next day and exchanged it for the SUV that we had booked in the first place – two days before our rental period finished (also very old and in bad condition.). We finished the contract and left the country.
6. On the 6th April, $2,000 was deducted from my credit card with no warning. When I enquired I was told it was a charge to ‘replace the full motor’ in the minivan. The agent somehow inferred that it was our fault that the ancient vehicle had chosen that moment to die.

ExxxCar gave us the oldest most unroadworthy vehicle I have EVER seen in a rental company. It died on the side of the road. Now you are trying to charge me to replace the old worn-out motor. This is not moral or legal. It is clearly a cynical attempt to get an old vehicle refurbished at my expense. YOU should be paying ME compensation for this appalling rental experience.

I am writing to give you a change to make this right and refund the $2000 that you have taken – and also add on the $70 cost of the tow truck that I had to pay.

Otherwise we will have to take legal action. 

Best regards,

Will

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On Thu, 22 Apr 2021 at 17:50, Will Nicholl <willaccio@gmail.com> wrote:

Dear Gina,

Thank you for your email and your investigation. I cannot accept the findings below however. There are some clear and obvious mistakes:

1. “No issues had been reported to ExxxCar prior to the incident on 31.03.2021.” This is completely incorrect. As soon as we took possession of the vehicle we made a complaint about the poor quality and unroadworthiness – including, critically, it’s inability to go up hills (ie a clear indication of an old and worn out engine that lacked power). Please the see attachment below. We were told at the time that our complaint would be escalated to Customer Services. I can now see this was not true.

2. “The vehicle’s engine and crankshaft was damaged as a result of the vehicle being driven across a dirt road as well as over-revving.” This is patently incorrect. We are a family of four driving with two small children in the car. We are not some hooligan offroad drivers! At no point did I ever leave a paved road. I have attached a picture of the car at the time of the breakdown. As you can see it is on a normal highway. The roads in Ecuador are in very bad condition but we as tourists cannot be held accountable for that! If the inspecting mechanic has any proof, please provide this.

We drove safely and carefully at all times. If the crankshaft was damaged then this was already the case when we received the car. I would like to receive proof of your allegations in the form of a pre-rental inspection of the crankshaft.
We revved too hard? Ludicrous! I am a driver with 20 years experience and two small children in the car – not a rally car racer. There is no mechanic alive who would deliver that allegation with a straight face. Again I would like to understand how the inspecting mechanic can substantiate this claim.
May I point out that if you are claiming that the engine died when I revved it, then you are admitting that the engine is old and worn out and has underlying problems.

3. I note that you have not addressed our point about the age and condition of the vehicle. We documented these concerns when we first took possession of the vehicle. It was covered in rust! The doors were jammed! It had 207,000km on the clock! This is not a new vehicle that has been destroyed by bad driving, it is an old rustheap that has been already driven into the ground by hundreds of preceding renters.

At the moment it seems like the local office is making up speculative reasons so that we have to pay to replace an worn vehicle motor which died of old age and overuse. Dirt road driving and revving too hard? Seriously?

I would like to see the evidence requested above please. I’m afraid you must reconsider this clearly fraudulent charge.   

Best regards,

Will

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On Wed, 28 Apr 2021 at 22:23, Will Nicholl <willaccio@gmail.com> wrote:

Dear Gina,

Thank you for your response.

I notice that you have dropped the ridiculous charge of ‘over-revving’. This is a step in the right direction. I’m afraid that once again though you have been duped by incorrect information from your Ecuador ExxxCar colleagues.

Let me put this very clearly: at no point did we ever leave a paved highway. I don’t understand on what possible basis the Ecuador lot could suggest that we did this. I am bewildered. Please can you tell me on what evidence this accusation is made?

You say we drove up Volcano Cotopaxi. This is totally incorrect. We had been travelling northwards from Cuenca towards Quilotoa where the car broke down. Cotopaxi is some distance further North than this. Again, the information that they have given you is completely false. Please could you ask them exactly how they have formed these assumptions? It will show you that they are simply making things up. We can provide a detailed itinerary of our movements – you will see that at no point did we ever leave the highway.

I simply cannot accept a charge of $2000 when we have been careful drivers and have not infringed our rental agreement in any way. I am sure you would be equally frustrated if such an outrageous charge had been take from you.

If we have to go down a legal route then it will be time and expense for both sides. There is still still time for you to do the right thing here.

Did you get a chance to look at all the reviews that I sent you about ExxxCar Quito? There are clear patterns of fraudulent charges and old unfit vehicles there.

Best regards,

Will

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On Wed, Mon, 10 May 2021 at 16:10, Will Nicholl <willaccio@gmail.com> wrote:

Hi Gina, 

Thanks for your response and apologies for the delay responding. I have been travelling home. 

Once again though this response is not adequate. There are several basic mistakes in your statement below that I must correct: 

1.     As I have told you before, at no point have we ever driven the Hyundai H1 on anything but a paved road. As you admit, there is no tracking information to contradict what I say. Therefore on what evidential basis can you say I am in breach of my terms with regard to this vehicle?  

2. Please take a look at both the Kia and the Vitara tracking data you sent me. I do not see any evidence of driving on unpaved roads. You keep bringing up the Cotopaxi volcano as if we were dirt-roading around the edge of the crater. Cotopaxi is a huge region with paved roads all around the base of the volcano. We had a brief picnic by the visitor centre (as you can see from your maps). Take a look at the satellite imagery freely available from Google – the route we have taken is all tarmac.

3.     Please can you show me the Terms and Conditions that say that the car cannot be driven ‘’in rural parts of the country”?  Are you saying that your cars can only be driven in the city? Is it against your terms to leave Quito then once the rental car has been picked up? 

4. You say: “the car was fully checked prior to your hire and was fully drivable for 12 rental days. Therefore, it is clear to us that the engine damage could not have been pre-existing when your hire took place”. This contradicts what you have said below. I quote: “We are unable to supply you with the pre-rental inspection of the crankshaft as this would not form part of the pre-rental inspection check.” It was the crankshaft that failed and you are clearly stating that this was NOT checked.

5.     You say that if there had a pre-existing condition “the vehicle would have been undriveable and the breakdown would have occurred much earlier.”  On what basis do you say this?  I have spoken to my mechanic in the UK and he tells me that any crack in the crankshaft might have been dormant for weeks, getting steadily worse as we drove along.  

6. Looking up crankshaft damage, you will see that driving is not ever listed as a cause.
“Far more frequently, broken crankshafts can be attributed to:
-Mechanical overload of the crankshaft through abnormal combustion, water hammers, etc.
-Sudden jamming of the engine due to a faulty gearbox, loose counterweights, etc.
-Excessive rotary oscillation, e.g. faulty vibration dampers, faulty flywheels or couplings.
-Material weakening due to previous bearing damage or annealed bearing journals, etc.
-Unreliable modification work to the crankshaft bearing.
-Mechanical damage to the shaft before installation”

7.     Once again you have not addressed the fact that you rented me a vehicle that was ancient with more than 200,000km on the clock and rust all over – and clearly a damaged crankshaft that you had not inspected.  This certainly against the rental vehicles code of practice and I believe this makes ExxxCar negligent.  The car broke down on the side of a mountain road in the evening when we were far from mobile reception. I had to leave my wife and children alone at the roadside in a dangerous area and hitch hike for over two hours to find and return with a mechanic. I believe that ExxxCar put my family in significant risk here and the psychological after-effects are still being felt.   

8.     Did you get a chance to look at all the reviews that I sent you about ExxxCar Quito? As I mentioned before, there are clear patterns of fraudulent charges and further evidence of old unfit vehicles there.

This is a clear cut case. I was rented an old and unroadworthy vehicle which should never have been allowed in your fleet according to the regulatory code of practice. The vehicle broke down due to a crankshaft fault, probably caused by age and overuse. The local ExxxCar office tried to profiteer from the situation to have the car refurbished at my expense. In fact it seems that ExxxCar should be paying me damages to compensate for the distress and risk caused.

Awaiting your reply.

Best regards, 

Will

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On Wed, 16 Jun 2021 at 10:59, Will Nicholl <willaccio@gmail.com> wrote:

Dear Gina,

WHY HAS EXXXCAR TAKEN ANOTHER $1750 OFF MY CREDIT CARD?

ExxxCar Ecuador is acting in an immoral and illegal manner. They are a den of thieves! This is so clearly apparent no matter how desperately you try to cover up for them.

One of the ExxxCar company values is: “Integrity: we are open, transparent and honest in our decisions, actions and delivery“. What a joke! You rented me one rusty old van for two weeks with 250,000km on the clock and now you have stolen over $5000 from me.

Do I have to cancel all my credit cards so your colleagues in Ecuador stop stealing my money? Will they help themselves to another couple of thousand every month?

Your explanation below for the first $2000 charge falls significantly short of credible – you have no evidence of off-road driving and you failed to inspect the crankshaft which then broke. Yet you refuse to take responsibility for your poor quality vehicle and hide behind false accusations which you can’t substantiate.

Now you have legitimized this initial fake charge, they have been emboldened to take another – again with no warning or explanation.

Please can you urgently explain this new charge?

Will

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On Fri, 18 Jun 2021 at 07:59, Will Nicholl <willaccio@gmail.com> wrote:

SEE YOU IN COURT ASSHOLES.

A Mental Breakdown. Part II

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We pace around the van discussing next steps as the sun sinks in the west. All options seem to involve me trekking off alone into the sunset, either up or down the mountain, for 20km or so. But before I can set off, salvation arrives. And salvation looks like an old and battered pickup truck full of melons. I place myself in the middle of the road and flag it down enthusiastically. It grinds up the road at a walking pace and eventually clatters to a halt pretty much at my feet. Two small Inca faces peer up at me from under woolen bobble hats, eyes barely visible above the dashboard.

“We have a problem! The car is broken. Much smoke, much bang bang! It won’t start any more” I tell the driver in a rush.
“Ah,” he says and nods.
“And our phones do not work here!”
“Oh,” he says and blinks.
“Do you think you can help us?” I add. He gives me a cautious look.
“But I am not mechanic…”
“But you can take me up there to the village. Perhaps I can find a mechanic there who will help.”
“I am not sure. I don’t think so,” he turns his dark eyes towards his wife and a look of reluctance passes between them. This gringo will only cause us problems, the look says, we need to get our melons to market. “The village is very small,” he tries.

There may not be another car for hours and the sun is falling fast. The melons will keep. I open the back door and hop in.
“Let us try!” I say brightly.

I look out at Menna and she gives me a small nod. “Don’t be too long!” she says in that cheery voice she uses when she finds herself stranded in the mountains as darkness falls but is trying not to worry the kids.

Conversation doesn’t exactly flow in the melon truck as we rattle our way slowly up the road. My attempts to engage my rescuers are met with grunts. I find out that the driver’s name is Edgardo, or maybe Gerardo or Eduardo, his wife does not have a name. She mutters quiet things to him, occasionally dials numbers on a cell phone and holds it to his ear, while he grunts and nods and says single syllable words that do not correspond to any version of Spanish that I know. They are heading to a place that sounds something like Loochattychooga. I cannot find it on my map.

It takes us forty minutes to reach a small collection of adobe plaster houses that is the nearest village. We cruise straight on through.
“Wait Edgardo. You are not stopping! I need to get out!”
“Small village. No one here to help you.”
“But where we will go?”
“There is another town. Will go there. My brother can help.”
“Help how? Is he a mechanic?”
“No. But… a friend… a truck”.

Another half hour later we are parked on the roadside in an equally tiny town. I am not sure what is happening. No-one is saying anything.“Is he coming Edgardo?”
“We will see him soon I think.”
“My friend, I am a little bit worried because I have had to leave my wife and my children on the mountain and it is getting dark and it might be dangerous.”
“Yes.”
”Is it dangerous you think?”
”Yes.”
”When do you think he will come?”. He thinks a little.
“Ahorita…”

Ah, ahorita, ahorita, that word so beloved by the Latin Americans. It means now-ish; a little while ago; soon perhaps; at some vague point in the future or in the past. When did your car break down? Ah ahorita… When will you rescue your stranded family? Pero ahorita! When will you grow up William? Beh, ahorita?

Five minutes pass slowly.
“Edgardo, I think I might leave you now and see if there is anyone else who can help.”
“No-one else.”
“I just feel that I must go back to my car before it gets too dark. Maybe we will leave the car and get a taxi back to our hostel”
“A taxi?”
“Is there a taxi here do you think?”
“No.”
“Ok, maybe I will just go and talk to some people. See if someone will give me a ride,” I get out of the car and look around the deserted town for some people to talk to. There is a sad looking guy sitting on a bench across the road and that’s about it.
“Where is the best place to go and find help?”
“Is ok Don William. Tranquilo. My brother…help you.”

Edgardo whispers something on his phone and passes it to his wife. He gets out and walks across the road to the man on the bench. They exchange a sentence or two, then they stand in silence for a while, looking at the floor, both nodding slightly. Then he walks slowly back to his melon truck.

“Soon now.”
“Oh ok. Are we sure about this? How do we know?”
“My brother’s friend… the truck.”
“He will come… Ahorita?”
“Si. Ahorita!”
“So your brother will come together with his friend in the truck?” Edgardo looks confused.
“My brother is there Don William…” He waves a hand at the quiet man on the bench opposite, who looks back but does not make any sign of acknowledgment.
“Oh, I see.”

I have lost control of the situation. My family is abandoned on a hillside far away and I am kicking my heels in an empty town, waiting for a melon farmer’s brother’s friend to arrive in a truck – probably some ancient beast. And I don’t see how a truck is even going to help anyway, unless it contains a new minivan engine. We need a mechanic. Or a taxi. And I don’t like being called Don William, it makes me feel colonial. I consider abandoning Edgardo and… what? Walking another 20km to the next town?

A small group of ladies come walking past and attracted by the pile of melons they stop and cluster round the van. There is some excited chat. Edgardo’s brother comes across the street and the men stand together in silence while the nameless wife haggles sharply and sells a few melons.
“Hey at least you’ve got rid of some melons hey Edgardo!” I say, feeling isolated, wanting some chat. He looks at me, then says something to the crowd and there is a burst of chatter and laughter. For the first time I see my new friend smile.
“Not melons Don William.” He says with an exaggerated slowness, as if taking to an infant, or a naive western tourist clearly out of his depth, “They are squashes!”
And the laughter erupts again.

Then with a sudden roar and a cloud of dust, a tow truck bursts onto the scene. It is like the cavalry sweeping into town. The truck is shiny white with polished chrome, exotic wing mirrors and the name “Rafaelita” written in ornate Italic script on the windshield. RESCATE! it shouts from the door panels – rescue! It gleams with the promise of salvation and redemption. A powerful winch is mounted on the yellow flat-bed. It is driven by a gum-chewing lad of about fourteen.

Knowing now that I will return victorious to my family, riding this roaring chrome beast, I swell up with emotion and gratitude. I try to press a twenty dollar bill upon Edgardo but he throws his hands up in horror, refusing to take it. “No necessary Don William!” So I pump him by the hand and give it instead to his wife, whose hand flickers out like a cobra and secretes the note away before I can blink.

I feel even more like a colonial now. I doubted the locals, I did not trust them. I was unable to understood their quiet patient rhythms. All those secret muttered calls, that silent brotherly communion, discrete SOS messages pulsing through the mountain network. As I thought myself lost and neglected they were working to save me! Rescate!

The fourteen year old driver is called Mario and he is has a welcome no-nonsense attitude. After a brisk negotiation we settle upon a $70 pick up fee, and off we skid, waving fond goodbyes to all of my new friends.

And so, some forty minutes later, I return to my family riding high in the pickup cab, like a returning general at the head of an armoured artillery column. And they haven’t been mugged or murdered but are sitting playing I-Spy in the car, Arthur’s bush knife placed on the seat within easy reach, just in case.

In no time at all Mario has expertly winched up the minivan onto the back of his truck and we are homeward bound, roaring confidently round sharp bends, back to the hostel and our safe beds. Matilda and I drive with Mario in the cab and Menna and Arthur get to ride up back in minivan, swaying around the corners and giving us excited smiles and thumbs up signs through the rear view mirror.

As we drive we watch the last of the sunset disappearing in lurid blazes behind the immense peak of Volcano Cotopaxi. “Sky like this, Don William, we call it is the Ecuadorean flag,” says Mario, who I realise is not chewing gum at all, but tobacco.

He points out at the sunset “See! The bands of gold and blue and red. Like the flag.” He thumps his chest. “This is our country. This is Ecuador”

A Mental Breakdown. Part I

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The Quilotoa crater lake is mind-blowing. It glows with a strange blue luminescence as if some nuclear reactor lies hidden beneath that menacingly still surface. Perhaps it hides the subaquatic lair of some supervillain. Perhaps it truly is a bottomless gateway to the underworld, as the locals believe. We trek right down the crater to make sure, but it does appear to just be a lake. We have a picnic beside it and try not to think too much about the impending hike back up the sheer goat path to our car at the top. We are at over four thousand meters of altitude here and breathing is not easy.

Eventually we have to face up to our destiny. The hike up the cliffs is every bit as lung-busting as we feared. Every hundred meters we halt and pant and suck on one of the old Lifesaver sweets that I have found in my jacket pocket. Around one bend in the path we come across a toothless old indigenous lady brewing tea. She commutes here by bus from a far away town, she tells us, and walks down the mountain to this lonely path every day – with all her cooking equipment on her back – to sell refreshments to passing hikers. This is how Ecuador works. We bought a couple of cups of coca leaf brew with my last dollar, and thus fortified we find strength to make the summit.

You can trek the Quilotoa Loop over about five days. It is a meandering circuit through a string of traditional Andean villages that encircle the crater. We are short of time though, and we have wheels, so we decide to drive around the loop over the course of an afternoon.

The landscape is fascinating in the way that photos and descriptions can never quite capture. It’s something about the altitude, the beauty, the excitement, the lack of oxygen, the proximity to the sun. It all combines to give a bubbly visceral feeling, a heightened sensory awareness. Or maybe it was just the coca tea. The pastures are greener than we have seen before, the canyons deeper, sudden drop-offs loom where there is nothing beyond the road-edge but air and gravity. We take in winding rivers, winding roads, huge birds of prey, prismatic sun effects. We pass through tiny villages of white plaster where livestock wanders out of yards and onto the roads. We see men in traditional dress working those chilly sunlit mountain top fields

For a couple of hours we meander along hairpin roads where every turn shows the mountain in new light, folded like origami, some faces bright, others in shadows. We roar down steep descents and then inch up long climbs, grumbling in the low gears. Vultures float on the updraft. The wind roars.

Then we hear a new sound through our open windows. A throaty gutteral whine, a cry of distress and pain.
It grows louder and more urgent.

Our van is singing a sad song, choking and shuddering.
The whine becomes a roar, a scream, then a metallic death rattle.
Smoke pours out of the bonnet.
There is a grinding vibration, a cough, a muffled explosion.

The engine cuts out.
We coast in sudden silence.
Birdsong flows back in through the open windows.
Acrid fumes of burnt oil and solvents float around us.

The wheel gets very heavy in my hands and I have to drop one shoulder and wrestle it.
We roll back down the hill and onto the verge, leaving a mess of oily tracks smeared on the tarmac.
The wheels crunch over gravel. Then we stop.

We hop out and take a look under the bonnet, as if we understood engines, as if we were going to perform some miracle roadside repair using twigs and stones. All we see is a mess of black pipes and pistons shaking and smoking and smelling, a fan still turning, oil dripping down onto the road.

We are in a fix. This is remote mountain territory and Menna’s phone has no signal (mine has not worked for weeks). Our map shows the nearest village is about 20km away and the bunched contour lines suggest that this will be a steep uphill trek. We are on the equator, so the sun sets just after six o clock every day. It is now approaching five. We know that darkness will fall very quickly once the sun drops below the mountain line.

Ecuador is not the most dangerous of all the Latin American countries but it is certainly not somewhere you hang out alone on the roadside after dark

There is a shared memory that floats unspoken between Menna and I. We have been here before. It was back in 2005, up in the northern Nicaraguan badlands near the Honduran border. That day we had driven down from El Salvador, twelve hours straight, with still another four hours to go before we made Managua. Darkness was falling then too when I crashed our jeep into the back of a truck which had abruptly stopped on a hill top and had no brake lights. The impact left our front grill and radiator smashed, the bonnet crumpled, the axel off kilter. The truck had no plates either and it took off again soon after, once the driver had given me some frank opinions on my driving.

We were left deep in bandido territory with all of our worldly possessions in the car. There was no other option but to leave Menna guarding our stuff – armed with our machete and an iron bar we carried for security – while I headed off down the road to find help.

This time we have no iron bar with us, nor a machete. Arthur has his bush knife though. This will have to do.