Mr. Lucky

by Thomas Greco, Publisher

I have always been fascinated with new technology.

Even when I was young. I was eight years old when I asked for my first eight-track tape recorder and began making mix tapes to play in my mom’s car. I was the first kid I knew who had a VCR in his bedroom in 1980. The teachers and administrators at Franklin Middle School had never seen a Sony WATCHman when I brought it in to keep me occupied while I substitute taught. I bought my first CD player in 1982. I had my first Apple computer in 1984 and no one knew what to make of the iPod when I brought it home in 2001. My local car audio guy still says I am the only person he ever knew who had a DAT (Digital Audio Tape) player in his car.

When the first EV cars came along, I was definitely intrigued. But I held out. Music and video are one thing. My vehicle is something else. And with my luck with past cars and trucks (remember my Tahoe diesel adventure?), I was more than hesitant.

A couple of years ago, the Tahoe lease was up. I really had no interest in experimenting with an EV. Although I did like the Teslas, the Cybertrucks were still too ugly and too expensive. I reached out to my buddy at a dealership in Paramus and he laughed at me when I told him how much I wanted to spend on a new (non-diesel) Tahoe. He told me to come up and check out what he had for my price point.

He offered me the choice of a Dodge Durango or a Jeep Grand Cherokee. I test drove both and I didn’t like either of them, mainly because they were so much smaller than the Tahoe. But finances dictated my options, so I decided I liked the Jeep a little bit better. The only thing was, it was a hybrid.

Again, I wasn’t interested in an EV but he sold me on the hybrid idea. All I had to do was plug it into a regular outlet and I would get 25 miles on a nightly charge. I figured since I don’t really drive that far (other than to the Windmill once a week), that maybe this might turn out pretty well.

Boy, was I wrong.

Twenty-four months, 13 return service calls and seven recalls later, I found myself on the Garden State Parkway driving home from the Windmill on a night where the temperature was eight degrees but felt like -50 with the windchill. I was running low on gas but the fuel gauge said I had 68 miles left, which was more than enough to get home. Needless to say, I was more than surprised when I passed Exit 129 and the low fuel light came on. Since I had just passed the Jon Bon Jovi service stop (talk about irony), I put pedal to metal hoping to reach the next gas station around Exit 131 when I saw the red lights shining behind me.

“Did you know you were doing over 80 miles per hour?’ the State Trooper asked me. “I said, “Yes, officer,” as I was reaching for my documents. “I’m running out of gas and I was trying to make it to the station up ahead.” (It was a couple hundred yards from where he pulled me over.)

“Who do you know?” he asked. “What do you mean?” I replied. He repeated the question and motioned to the gold PBA card I had with my documents. “Ohhh, that’s my brother-in-law. He’s a retired cop.”

“Okay. Slow down and I’ll follow you to the gas station.” The trooper guided me in and then took off. Soon, I would regret that.

I pulled up to the pump, gave the attendant my credit card and asked him to fill it up. Within a few seconds he came back waving my card and yelling at me in a language I didn’t understand. I asked him if he needed another card and he just kept yelling and threw my card at me. That put me over the limit. I took off and screamed some incredibly politically incorrect things at him and headed for the next exit. I never made it.

About a mile later, while I was going 80 again, the Jeep shut down. I don’t mean it ran out of gas. I mean all the power shut down. All the lights went out. The steering wheel stiffened and everything went dark. Somehow, I was able to guide it off the Parkway by an inch…the edge of the vehicle was literally up against the white line dividing the road from the shoulder. I didn’t panic. But I was scared shitless. I certainly couldn’t get out of the driver’s side, and as any big guy will tell you, it’s not that easy to climb over and get out the passenger side. I sat there trying to figure out what to do while simultaneously praying I wasn’t going to get killed by an oncoming vehicle speeding up the right lane. I sure wish that trooper hadn’t left me.

I wracked my brain to think of any friends who lived anywhere nearby. I assumed I ran out of gas, so if I could find someone to just bring me some to get me going, I could make it to the next exit and fill up. Then I remembered that AASP/NJ Board Member Dennis Cataldo lived not far from where I was. Now, Dennis and I are friends. We’ve known each other for years, but it’s not like we’ve gone out to dinner together with our wives or anything. When I called him and explained my situation, he must have thought I was nuts. After all, here I was asking him to leave his wife and young son to come out and rescue me on the Parkway at 10pm on a freezing Friday night. But if you know Dennis, you know he didn’t hesitate. He was on his way as soon as we hung up.

Still, I knew he was at least a good half hour away. I was still scared to stay in the Jeep because the cars flying by were only inches away. I figured I would just get out and wait outside. How bad could it be?

I lasted less than a minute. (Where have I heard that before?)

Honestly, I don’t think I’d ever been so cold in my life. I jumped back into the passenger side and waited for Saint Dennis. Fortunately, a few minutes later, a Parkway truck showed up and parked behind me flashing his lights to warn the speeding cars coming by. I quickly ran to his warm cab. I never saw the foot deep puddle of mud at the bottom of the truck door step. Not only was I freezing from the cold, now my right leg was soaked from foot to knee.

Dennis arrived a short time later with a gas can and proceeded to pour it in the Jeep. Now, that may sound like a simple task but you have to remember the Jeep was an inch off the actual road. And the fuel door was on the driver’s side. So here was Dennis, basically with his whole body literally in the right lane of the Parkway, trying to pour gas into my Jeep. I don’t know if I would do that for my wife, nevermind a casual friend!

Once the gas was in the car, I tried to start it. It did start up for about 30 seconds which allowed me to get it a few feet more off the road. Then it went dark again. We tried adding more gas. Nothing. It was no use. I thanked Dennis for all his help. He asked if I wanted him to stay but he had already done way more than enough. I told him to go home and be with his family, climbed back into the Parkway truck (yup, I stepped in the puddle again), then called Triple A.

AAA said they would have someone come out as soon as possible. My relief lasted all of 15 minutes, when they called me back to tell me that they weren’t allowed on the Garden State Parkway, that I had to have the Parkway official call their preferred tow truck company. By the time he showed up, it was 11:30pm.

Once again, we tried pouring gas into the Jeep and once again it refused to start. Out came the jumper cables. Still dead. The tow truck driver gave me a “what the f#$k?” look. We would have to put it on the flatbed.

I went back to the kid in the Parkway truck and told him he could go. I thanked him with some Windmill gift certificates (he was ecstatic, btw) and went back outside.When the driver tried to load the Jeep onto the flatbed, he couldn’t get the car to go into neutral. Unable to get the steering wheel to move, he dragged the Jeep onto the bed, scraping the bottom with sparks flying everywhere. (Can someone explain to me why there isn’t some type of button to unlock the gears in a case like this?! I mean, I can’t fix a tire but I am pretty sure there used to be a way to use the car key to unlock the gears. Was this a stupid EV thing? WTF?)

Once on the bed, the driver gave me two options: Bring it to my dealer in Paramus for $400, or drive it to the next exit, call AAA and let them drive it to Paramus. That would only cost $85 and AAA would reimburse me.

It was 12:30am by the time he dragged the Jeep off the truck (with more sparks) in the Clark ShopRite parking lot. AAA showed up around 2am. By the time THIS GUY couldn’t figure out how to get it in neutral and dragged it on to his flatbed (with more sparks), we were now close to 3am. My son had come down to help and the tow trucker followed us out of the parking lot and headed for Paramus. As we were about to get on the Parkway ramp, the driver motioned us to stop. “I’m not allowed to go on the Parkway with this.” Seriously?

I was beyond arguing at this point. I told him to just meet us at the dealership, fully knowing that he would have to head south to the Turnpike and then back up north to Route 4.

We got to the dealership around 3:30am. The flatbed arrived at 4:30am. But it wasn’t over yet.

I showed him where to leave the Jeep. (I didn’t give a shit whether the dealership minded or not.) The problem was, you guessed it, he couldn’t get it into gear and off the truck. SERIOUSLY!? At this point I think I was more numb from the circumstances than the cold. My son had a brilliant idea, though. He went on YouTube and found the button that unlocks the gears on the Jeep. Turns out it was right there in front of our eyes. I only had to tear off the plastic molding, rip off five other layers and yank a crank like you would see on a lawnmower. I went over to the car, followed the instructions and…the crank came all the way out of the socket. No gears unlocked. Just me with my c…I mean, crank in my hand. Once again, the Jeep had to be dragged off the flatbed. Inches at a time. Sparks.

When it was finally off, I took the overnight service note and wrote a scathing message to the dealer about the piece of shit they leased me. I dropped it into the box and waited to hear their apologies the next morning. When the phone rang at 9am, the tech just said:

“The Jeep’s ready Mr. Greco. We’re here till noon.”

“Hold on! What the hell was wrong with it?”

“Oh. The battery was leaking. We replaced it. All good.”

I stormed into the dealership to see the manager. I was not taking this vehicle back and demanded a replacement. The best I got was an assistant. He said he would have the manager call me. When I hadn’t heard back from anyone by Monday afternoon, I went ballistic. I emailed and called the dealership owner, the managers, the salesman, the leasing company, the manufacturer and a lawyer specializing in Lemon Law. You know where that got me?

Nowhere.

I had had enough. Before surrendering, I texted my buddy (who by this time had retired) and asked if I went nuclear on the dealership in all my magazines, on all my social media channels and on all my podcasts, would that get him into trouble? I’m sure he probably laughed at such a “big” threat but he humored me and said to give him a day before doing anything. The next day, he texted that the dealer would take the Jeep back and put me into a new Dodge Durango. At this point, I was desperate just to get out of the Jeep for safety reasons alone. I took the deal, even though they added the remaining lease amount onto the new lease. What could I do? I had no leverage. There were over 14 months left on the original lease.

So here I am, stuck in the model I decided not to choose at the start. At a monthly cost more than a Tahoe!

I should just ride a bike.

Want more? Check out the May 2026 issue of New Jersey Automotive!