The sun sets on Saturn

Saturn was once the company where customer service was king. No haggling, everyone paid the same price for the same car. You bought a car, they took your picture, you received an invite to your group's party. Your group being those who had purchased a Saturn in the most recent quarter-the party was a shared sweet gathering of proud owners of what we all believed to be the best car from the best company. Free tours of the plant, car service home if your car had to stay overnight, free car washes. The management principles of teamwork, service, inclusivity, employee participation, pride- all lovely concepts, were part of their mission statement "People First." http://www.saturn.com/history/
I bought my Saturn, christened Sassy, in September 1996. So although it was deemed a 1997 model, I actually owned it four months before 1997 rolled around. Sassy is now almost 13 1/2 years old. How did she become a teenager? Sassy is green, my favorite color. Actually, one of the top colors of the early nineties for cars was green.
Now, almost half the cars on any street are silver. http://www.buyingadvice.com/popular-car-colors.html
When did everyone get a new car? I never noticed this fleet of silver/grey/platinum cars replacing all the other colors. I still get a thrill when I spot the Saturn logo on a car I feel like saluting our commonality. I have mistakenly plopped into other Saturn's after shopping. They all feel like home.
In 2003, Sassy became the stay-at-home car, the second car, spending her days resting in front of the house, no more bumpy, pothole jolting, stop and start jarring rides through the Queens streets to work. A quiet life, a semi-retired life, a life that prolonged her sassiness. I joined her in retirement in 2008 and adopted pup Liam- Sassy and Liam Sassy is the car that took puppy Liam to his checkups, to the dog run, to his pet hotel. The car he sat in like a co-pilot, stepping on all the console controls causing all windows to roll up and down simultaneously, mirrors to pop back and forth while he leaned in with rapid wet licks as I frantically tried to regain control of all the apparatus in Sassy while driving on the Grand Central Parkway
For thirteen and a half years, we have adhered to the routine maintenance schedule of every three months (Paul has a Saturn also). I am just as committed to keeping my regular doctors' checkups, and I sometimes slipped when making doctor's appointments; when asked the reason for the appointment I would reply "routine maintenance."
Our Saturn service office in Hempstead had every current day newspaper, a wide screen TV, bagels, butter, assorted teas, clean bathrooms and folks who had worked there forever. They remembered you and addressed you by your name. The camaraderie among the waiting Saturn owners was convivial, lively, familiar, comfortable. Hey, we all were special, we were Saturn owners. We had its mission statement beaming down from the wall, visible from all corners of the waiting room.

Our mission is to earn the loyalty of Saturn owners and grow our family by developing and marketing U.S.-manufactured vehicles that are world leaders in quality, cost, and customer enthusiasm through the integration of people, technology, and business systems."

As the dealers began closing over the last two years, our Hempstead crowd grew as we welcomed Saturn clients from Roslyn and other area service centers who had closed. Our seating area swelled. Then came the news that Saturn would close by fall of 2010. Our last service visit was in October 2009. Our regular agent was not at the desk. No food. However, all else was the same. The crowd was a bit smaller, but still calm, confident, content to read, watch TV, chat.
Not so this January 18, 2010. We had received a call in December- there would be no more Saturday service. Saturday was our regular appointment day, so we switched to this past Monday and as we drove up to our street we found it blocked off by police. Is this an omen? Why won't they let us down the block where Saturn is? We angled around, snooped out of a side street, angled into Saturn's street and slowed to a stop. Where is Saturn? How can this be? There is no sign a part of its famous logo visible on the left by the word "service" Is it closed?
I look in, open my car door, peek in- "anyone here?" Someone comes out from the back. The Saturn signs are down. The lot deserted. Plants dead No papers, food, tea. Saturn's avuncular manager, Vinnie, is staffing the desk. The cases that used to display Saturn accessories, such as teddy bears, caps and the like are empty. The mission statement gone, walls marred with glue where it had been. A painting I always liked is still on the wall, it occurs to me to ask about it, then decide the workers need something to look at until the end. I feel as if I am in a store that has been looted, left nameless, its employees homeless, without its identity and history.
We wait, get our checkup and retrieve Sassy, only car serviced. We do not make a next appointment.
Sassy will retire this year. It is time. The sunset of her life just as the sun sets on Saturn
It has been a pleasure.

and thanks to AC and all of CNN for an outstanding job in Haiti woof woofer


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