Inside looking out: Let there be light

My father once told me believe nothing that you hear and only half of what you see.

I own a 2011 GMC Acadia, and for whatever reason, these vehicles have a tendency to burn out head lamps. One burned out on mine, and soon after I replaced it, the other burned out. This happened three times in six months. My mechanic told me the older Acadias eat headlights like Christmas trees eat light bulbs.

My father was right. With only one head lamp working while I was driving at night, I could see only half the road.

Back in the day, changing a headlamp in the car was as easy as changing a light bulb in the house. The lamp came all-inclusive. Pop out the protective cover. Unscrew the burned-out lamp, screw the new one in. Cover on. Done. With cars today, the mechanic has to remove the plastic shield and dismantle half the inside of the front end to get to the lamp and then connect a small bulb into a pronged wire end. What took five minutes in 1969, now takes a half-hour or more.

Frustrated with this problem, I decided to buy LED lights online. They were ridiculously expensive at $100 a pair, but they came with a lifetime guarantee. About three months after my purchase, one of the LED headlights burned out. Calling the company is where the fun began.

“So you’re saying one burned out?” the customer service representative asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s probably a defective lead wire and not the bulb.”

“No. I had my mechanic check,” I said. “The wires are fine. Definitely the light.”

“Well, then you’ll have to take both lights out and send them to us so we can test them here.”

“So let me understand what you’re saying. I send both back to you to Texas for testing. Meanwhile, I either don’t drive at night or I drive in the dark with no lights or drive only with my high beams.”

“You can purchase halogen lights to use temporarily until we conclude our testing or you can upgrade right now to our premium LEDs. You’ll only be charged $60 considering your circumstances.”

“I already paid $100 for two of your LED headlights. Now you’re asking me to spend another $60 and you’re not honoring your lifetime guarantee. Sounds like a scam to me.”

There was a pause from the other end of the phone. Suddenly. I hear a new voice.

“I’m the customer service manager and our guarantee is not a scam!”

I’m taken aback for a moment, thinking how dare this the customer service manager is angry with me. I regroup. You want to give me an attitude, well, I got one of my own.

“First you want me to disable my car from driving at night until you test the lights. Then, you ask me to upgrade at more cost to me. Your guarantee is for a lifetime? I guess a lifetime with your math calculation is two months. Yes, sir. I’d call that a scam.”

We bantered back and forth for a few more minutes until he got tired of me.

“I’ll send you a replacement for the one light,” he said. “You send back the defective one so we can test it. We might need to take further action.”

The “further action” was never discussed. What could he do?” Try to charge my credit card? Can’t do that. Maybe he was thinking of suing me for something he’d have to make up.

Speaking of headlamps, driving with daytime running headlights is like wearing winter gloves in the summer. There is no need. They do serve one purpose and that’s replacements will come sooner than later when driving with the lights on both day and night.

Driving in the Pocono Mountains can be an extraterrestrial activity. The other night I drove down a very dark road in Jim Thorpe and I thought an alien space ship was coming at me from the other side. A pickup suddenly popped up over the top of the hill with at least six bright lights shining into my windshield. I lost sight of everything for a moment. I braked to a stop in the middle of the road until I could regain my bearings.

In the elevations, we drive through thick fog nearly once a week. One time, the visibility was so bad, I drove 15 miles an hour with my hazard lights flashing. The guy behind me had his high beams on. My eyes were locked onto the white line on the side of the bending roadway so that I didn’t go off the road. About 3 miles later, the guy was still behind me, and when I pulled into my driveway, he followed me right in.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you were turning into a street. Can’t see much with my high beams.”

I suggested his low beams would make seeing the road easier, but he said, “Not if they don’t work.” His vehicle was a GMC Acadia.

I seem to have weird things go wrong with the cars I’ve owned. A long time ago, during a torrential rainstorm at night, the windshield wiper switch had broken in my Plymouth Duster. I couldn’t see anything from inside, so I drove 5 miles with my head sticking out the driver’s side window so I could see where I was going.

Unforeseen circumstances can blind you from seeing the light. Funny thing is — that not only applies to driving, but it’s true about life, too.

Rich Strack can be reached at katehep11@gmail.com.