I never did mention that there is a new Jetta that gets me from place to place. It is an '84 this time around with just over 300,000km (though the diesel engine has only seen about 40,000km, unlike the previous '86 Jetta whose original engine made it some 440,000km). It is old enough to have the fancy old VW hubcaps. I have grown quite fond of it, and Orion has been kind enough to help me with some of its quirks . . . these include getting the stereo and even such frivolous items as the parking brake and signal lights. He also managed to get the driver's door sorted out; I had been unable to exit the car using the traditional method (though my original idea of leaving by the passenger door turned out to be kind of dumb as the external handle was just a window-roll-down away).

I am also a master at parallel parking this new car, despite its lack of a right-side mirror and non-power steering. (Having published this statement in print, I am sure to fail spectacularly next time one of you is around.)

The results are in, and it's not pretty. Due to the substantial repairs that would be required to make even some difference in the Jetta's test scores, it will be moving back to the Island. We may one day see the return of this fine car to the mainland, but if not, we certainly had a good run.

I won't be changing the category just yet, though . . . as Brian alluded to, there may be another Jetta soon enough. Stay tuned . . .

I've now spent quite a bit of time with the Jetta. It is the same car from the Randy debacle of years past (no, nothing ever did come of that). I've moved to and from the priries more than once with it carrying my stuff. And if spending is any indicator, I like it more than any of my other hobbies (except maybe drinking, if that is a hobby: discuss). In honour of this, I am renaming the warcode vs. Randy category on the right to Jetta news (besides, Randy has now had more than his share of press).

So I'm going to be a bit forgiving when a little smoke puffs out now and then. Yes, I know this is not all that friendly to the environment, but I'm probably feeling better about it by having a car with fairly low gas consumption, or something. Anyway, that point is moot, as I am now in the process of bringing the Jetta up to the Air Care standards of Bc's Lower Mainland (or, if you like, Greater Vancouver). The first test was quite a failure, but as the car has never seen any kind of emissions control, I have high hopes for the retest.

Also, for those of you in the know, I did finally get that seatbelt repaired this week, so now the driver need no longer buckle into the passenger's belt clasp. Please don't tell anybody how long this was broken.

Well, I suppose it is time to close the chapter of my life that involves the nefarious Randy. It is now one year since that rainy night in Saskatoon, which marks the end of the claim perioid as far as the super-helpful SGI people are concerned.

So Randy has not updated his address record with SGI. Tsk tsk. I guess it's time to sic a professinal locator on him. Hopefully something turns up. Unfortunately (and ironically), this professional locator guy has had trouble getting back to me. I should maybe take that as a sign.

Well, to answer yesterday's question, they don't get too mad at you if you have to cancel a court date. I suppose this sort of thing happens a lot.

Next week, I will return to SGI (whom I still blame for this silly situation) and try to extract a new address for our favourite defendant. Will the information be there? Will anyone talk to me? Stay tuned . . .

So just when we thought we had him, Randy Soze is nowhere to be found. I'm a bit disappointed in the bailiff service I used, because they waited until the last day the summons could be served to inform me that they our elusive friend no longer lives at the address I gave them.

Tomorrow, I will find out both what options a person has in tracking down another person, and also how angry the Saskatchewan Small Claims Court people get when you have to cancel a trial.

Since I was busy doing other things and not especially devoted to pursuing my case, I didn't file my claim against our good buddy Randy until last week. But things are in motion now: today I received the summons, which I have to serve right away. The court date is April 14th. Pretty soon, really. I'm still hoping he won't show up (but will have the money to pay, of course).

I'll keep you posted.

Just a quick update on my upcoming court funfest. Our friend Randy has chosen to ignore my plea for compromise, so now we move on to Phase 2: filing a small claim. This involves writing a bunch of letters, photocopying them, and paying $20.

This is of course necessary preparation for Phase 3: see you in court and Phase 4: see you in Hell.

Bad news from SGI today. Our friend Randy refuses to acknowledge that he (driving his car) was at the scene of his accident with me. Since his car is now totalled, there is no way to match up the damage with my car. SGI now says they can't do anything about it, and I have to take him to small claims court.

I spent the rest of the day driving around collecting information for my case. While I have nothing strictly physical, I have a lot of compelling information in terms of when I phoned police, ICBC, and SGI. I haven't sued anybody before, but I intend to do it properly.

The ironic thing for Randy is that, if he loses, he will have to pay the whole $1400 to repair my car, whereas if he had come clean but refused to admit he was drunk, he probably could have gotten away just paying his $700 deductable for the accident and letting insurance cover the rest. But we already know Randy isn't all that clever.

I now attract drunk drivers, apparently. I was in a friend's car tonight, in a parking lot after the mediocre movie Knockaround Guys, and this kid whipped around a corner and caught us on the front corner of the car. Not super damaged, but the whole thing will end up, as usual, as a real hassle. And again, the dumbfuck in the other car is drunk. We even talked to a couple bouncers at the bar nearby (we needed a pen) and they said he had been in there for quite a while.

As for my own car, I am currently dealing with SGI (Saskatchewan Government Insurance). The winner who hit me claims that he was nowhere near the intersectino where I was hit. The only reason he is still talking to them is because he plowed into a parked semi about 40 minutes after he hit me, and his car is no longer drivable. I'm not really sure what he thinks he can get away with . . . the insurance adjuster is clearly not a fan of his. He didn't even pay to have his car released from the towing place so they could match his (now even more mangled) car up to mine at the claims centre. A real gem, this one. My theory is that SGI is now trying to release any kind of responsibility they have on account of him being drunk, which means that I will have to get them to talk to ICBC (Insurance Corporation of British Columbia, who insures my car) to explain that it wasn't my fault. I can't imagine that any of this will happen quickly, which is a little disconcerting as I was hoping to take my car to Calgary as the first stage of my upcoming trip to San Diego, and while I'm 95% sure the $1300 damage will be fully paid for, I'm not sure when that will happen.

And while I'm at it, in case any of you are driving around Saskatoon, watch out for Randy McMurtry, currently known to you as "the guy who hit me". I initially thought SGI had his name when I first called because he had owned up to what he did, but no, it was the people from the second accident who had called. Instead, he has chosen to deny everything and refused to take responsibility. Anyway, Randy McMurtry is his name, and he can fuck right off.

I can only wish my buddy better luck with what happened tonight.

My favourite thing to happen to me while driving home tonight was getting rear-ended by some drunk fuck. Drunk enough to get in the car, barely sober enough to know he didn't want any cops around, but fucking asinine enough to still drive around and include the back end of my car as one of his destinations.

Fuck.