Luckily, the body shop did a wonderful job on the car. It looked new and drove like a dream. I could just see trying to deal with some Complaints Department 330 miles away. Because of my evil job-hopping ways I have very little vacation to begin with and I really can't afford much more than a day off. The thought of having to drive up more than once was dreadful.
I don't know how Pueblo rates such a body shop. This place was huge with a bright modern lobby with antique Wild-West paraphernalia on the walls to study while you waited for the computer to poot out your bill. Pretty amazing and very fortunate.
. . .
Now I gotta go read about Happy Harry Truman and the A-Bomb so I can show my face in class tomorrow.