Hertz Rent A Car

 

387

375

Omid T.

San Francisco, CA

Fix Or Repair Daily.  Found On the Road Dead.  Fucked Over Rebuilt Dodge. Frequently Overhauled, Rarely Driven.

As a car enthusiast, my disdain for Detroit steel is pretty obvious. So it's a bit puzzling how much loyalty I have for a car rental company that up until recently was owned by Ford, and almost exclusively rented Ford group products.

But I love Hertz. Never mind that they mostly offer craptacular Fords. Never mind that OJ "If I Did It" Simpson was once their spokesperson. I love Hertz because they love me. Or at least, it sure feels like they love me.

Ever since I got rid of my own car, I've been renting a lot of cars. And every time I go to Hertz, they remember me and what I like. Case in point:  "Hey - You're going to Tahoe. Outback or RAV4?"  "Either or."  "Anything but a Ford, right?"  "You know me better than my girlfriend."  "You don't have a girlfriend."  "See??"

Of course, about the topsy turvy world of rental cars, the Rolling Stones sang, "You can't always get what you wa-ant." At least, I think they were singing about rental cars... Anyway, I went to pick up my temporary snow shuttle last week. Being the start of a holiday weekend, just about every car with 4WD was rented out, so they couldn't get me my preferred Subaru or Toyota.  

It's as though they heard my heart shrivel up and die inside my chest and read my mind. They started making some calls to other lots to see if they had something less Deerborn, Michigan-esque for me. When luck eventually ran out, they gave me a free upgrade to a premium SUV - leather, sunroof, big engine, all that.

Of course, it was a Ford.

But I'll forgive them, as long as they keep pretending to love me.

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