Early morning, October 24th. I’m white-knuckling it from Cincinnati to Chicago with an 11:30 a.m. business meeting on the books.
Everything’s going according to plan until 11:10 a.m., when I pull into a St. Charles gas station about 10 minutes from my destination.
I return to my car. Turn the key.
Dead silence.
My Russian roulette starting problem had just landed on a loaded chamber at the worst possible moment.
This nightmare began three weeks earlier on what should have been a simple errand. I’d driven 40 minutes from a meeting I had in northern Tennessee to our home, but stopped at our neighbor Bo’s place first to gather chicken eggs. When I tried to leave, I turned the key and nothing. Not even a click. Just silence.
I tried jumping the battery. Nope. After 20 minutes of futzing, I gave up, left the car with the keys inside, and walked home.
Here’s where it gets weird: Bo also happens to be our mechanic. I texted him the situation. A few hours later, after he got home from work, he texted back: “It started right up.”
What? Did I suddenly forget how to start a car? Was I losing my mind? No, that car definitely wouldn’t start for me. Bo and I decided not to worry about it unless it happened again.
Guess what? It happened again. But this time 131 miles from home.
The Costco Incident
The following Saturday, my wife and I left for Georgia to catch the Ole Miss at Georgia game in Athens. We stopped at the Costco in Greenville, South Carolina, for gas. After refueling, the car did it again. We pushed it to a nearby parking space.
No matter what I tried — dead silence every time I turned the key.
We decided to do our Costco shopping. Forty-five minutes later, we returned to the car.
It started.
What in the world is wrong with this thing? It didn’t act up again the rest of the trip.
Bo to the Rescue
The next Monday, Bo drove my car to his shop and checked it out. He let it run for hours.
Couldn’t duplicate the problem. He even installed a new starter — which he didn’t tell me about until days later — thinking the one he’d installed before all this started might have been defective.
Now that’s service. True care for the customer. He didn’t even charge me to install another starter. That, my friends, is the definition of neighborly!
The Road Trip from Hell
Fast forward to my voyage to Wisconsin. The problem struck again on my way to my overnight stay in Cincinnati. I was delayed in Corbin, KY, for about 45 minutes. On my way to Chicago the next day, I stopped in Indianapolis and dropped $250 on a new battery, based on advice that the ground could be defective on the old one.
Headed on my merry way, full of optimism.
Then, as I mentioned, my heart sank in St. Charles.
I was 45 minutes late to my scheduled business meeting with a fractional HR professional. Fortunately, she was able to adjust her schedule, and it all worked out. But I was stressin’ just a bit.
The rest of the weekend? The car was an angel. I picked up a high school buddy in the Milwaukee area, and we drove to Des Moines, IA. The next day we attended the BYU at Iowa State football game in Ames.
Afterward, we drove to Fort Madison, stayed the night, then toured the Latter-day Saint sites in Historic Nauvoo, IL, on Sunday. Returned to Wisconsin that evening without incident.
Dealership Experience No. 1: Wilde Honda (Waukesha, Wi)
On Monday, October 27th, I took the car to the Honda dealer in Waukesha. The service department representative was direct: without the car displaying the issue, they can’t do anything about it.
She asked if I had an aftermarket starter installed. I said yes.
“We see this problem often with aftermarket starters,” she explained. “If we don’t install a genuine Honda starter, the only aftermarket starter we install is a Denso.” (Not what Bo had installed.)
I texted Bo this information. His response: “It’s not the starter. The dealer always blames aftermarket parts, and they use them all the time.”
I went on my merry way instead of paying the $200 diagnostic fee, even though I was disappointed they couldn’t help solve this issue.
Here’s what bothered me: How would the car know what kind of starter was installed? Is the electrical system that fickle? And why would this issue be so random, only occurring after long drives?
But to her credit, the service rep was encouraging me not to leave the car because she wasn’t confident they could diagnose the issue without it acting up. I appreciated that honesty.
Navigating the Dealership Minefield
According to an eye-opening article from Edmunds, navigating dealership service departments requires vigilance. Service advisors are often incentivized to upsell, and some recommendations may be more about profit than necessity. The article reveals that mechanics might suggest services based on mileage milestones in your owner’s manual, but not all are critical at that exact moment.
The key? Ask questions. Lots of them. What exactly needs to be done? Why? What happens if I wait? Can I see the problem?
Some dealerships operate with integrity, genuinely diagnosing issues and recommending only necessary repairs. Others? Not so much. The challenge is figuring out which is which — often when you’re already stressed about a malfunctioning vehicle.
The Journey Continues
On Oct. 28, I began my voyage back to Tennessee. I stopped for gas just outside Indianapolis.
The car wouldn’t start again.
I pushed it to a parking space. After waiting an hour — and after I said a prayer — the car started.
This was the last time the Russian roulette starter manifested itself, but I had zero faith it wouldn’t happen again.
Oct. 30 back in Johnson City, I stopped to talk to a different mechanic we’d used in the past to get his advice. He wasn’t sure since he doesn’t do electrical work (neither does Bo), but he said one interesting thing: “When this happens, if you can jar the starter, sometimes that’ll get it to start.”
Well, that’s not feasible since the starter isn’t readily accessible.
No further issues. The car started every time. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to be stranded again on my next long trip.
On Thursday, Nov. 6, I took the car to my local Honda dealer’s service department in Johnson City. Their diagnostic charge? Only $125. (Glad I waited.)
The Plot Twist
My customer experience at this dealership was 180 degrees different than my experience at the Wisconsin Honda dealership.
I’ll tell you about it next week. But one thing I’ll share now: Bo knows what he’s talking about.
It wasn’t the aftermarket starter causing the issue.
3 Big Takeaways:
- Honest service providers are worth their weight in gold – Bo installed a new starter and didn’t charge me, even though it turned out not to be the problem. That’s customer care, not profit maximization.
- Not all dealerships are created equal – The contrast between the Wisconsin and Tennessee Honda dealerships proved that brand name doesn’t guarantee the same quality service or customer experience.
- Question everything at the service desk – As the Edmunds article confirms, service advisors face pressure to upsell. When told “you need this service,” always ask why, what happens if you wait, and whether you can see the problem yourself.
Have you had any “fun” experiences at a dealership’s service department? Do share!
Stay authentic — and never accept “we can’t diagnose it” as a final answer.
Jeffery E. Pizzino, APR (seen here in a vintage photo circa 1983 serendipitously doing a Clash impersonation in a since-forgotten location) is a spin-free public relations pro who is passionate about telling the why of your story with clarity, impact and authenticity. He began his PR career in 1987 at Ketchum Public Relations in New York City but has spent the majority of his career as a solopreneur. He’s the Chief Authentic Officer of the Johnson City, TN-based public relations firm, AuthenticityPR. He also functions as the fractional CCO for technology startup Converus.
Jeff has an MBA in Management from Western International University and a Bachelor of Arts degree in Communications — with an emphasis in PR — from Brigham Young University (rise and shout!). He’s a native of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, but also holds an Italian citizenship. Jeff and his storyteller wife Leticia have four children and four grandchildren. In his extremely limited nonwork hours, he studies italiano, practices guitar, write songs, gardens, disc golfs, reads, listens to New Wave music, serves in his church, watches BYU football, and plays Dominion and Seven Wonders. Email Jeff.
