When I want to find him in the winter, I go into the garage, where, at the back, there's a wood stove crackling away and a half dozen men sitting around its heat. In the summer, the door is up and the men are outside in front of it. The car being repaired is up on the lift exposed from below.
He's a big man with a short white beard, and a quiet voice and smile who gives me his wrist to shake since his hands are always dirty.
Both of my cars are from his used car lot. Tthey have good quality and low cost. The one I drive has low mileage but is nearly 24 years old. When there's a door that won't close (the hinges had rotted away), or shot shocks, or a failure to pass inspection (exhaust, emergency brake, rear light problems), he fixes it for me quickly, inexpensively and well.
Last night, when I went to pick up my car, there was crowd in the garage-snuggery, including some women. As he rose and left the group to lead to this office, he said, 'My sister is here from Puerto Rico, Mr Peter. My great aunt died yesterday.' 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Don't be, she was 103 years old.'
As he handed me the keys and took payment, he told me: They delivered the wrong emergency brake cable twice which is why it took so long.'
I'm somewhat abashed. Ours is a commercial transaction, but I feel I get the better. Yet, it's more than that, and what I don't know. I am very grateful for your willingness to help me so readily, so well (the vehicles always pass inspection) and with such friendliness. What do I do to deserve this consideration? What more can or should I do?
Your world is full and your life has its mixture of challenges, some of which I know a little of. Of what I have or am, I would gladly share more if I knew how. In any case, let me wish you and the business well. I'm not sure I do you much service having you fix my clunkers rather than buying new ones from you, but...
As I walked away, you said, 'The car should last perhaps another year. When you come to get a new one, I'll give you a deal.' You already have, my friend.
He's a big man with a short white beard, and a quiet voice and smile who gives me his wrist to shake since his hands are always dirty.
Both of my cars are from his used car lot. Tthey have good quality and low cost. The one I drive has low mileage but is nearly 24 years old. When there's a door that won't close (the hinges had rotted away), or shot shocks, or a failure to pass inspection (exhaust, emergency brake, rear light problems), he fixes it for me quickly, inexpensively and well.
Last night, when I went to pick up my car, there was crowd in the garage-snuggery, including some women. As he rose and left the group to lead to this office, he said, 'My sister is here from Puerto Rico, Mr Peter. My great aunt died yesterday.' 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Don't be, she was 103 years old.'
As he handed me the keys and took payment, he told me: They delivered the wrong emergency brake cable twice which is why it took so long.'
I'm somewhat abashed. Ours is a commercial transaction, but I feel I get the better. Yet, it's more than that, and what I don't know. I am very grateful for your willingness to help me so readily, so well (the vehicles always pass inspection) and with such friendliness. What do I do to deserve this consideration? What more can or should I do?
Your world is full and your life has its mixture of challenges, some of which I know a little of. Of what I have or am, I would gladly share more if I knew how. In any case, let me wish you and the business well. I'm not sure I do you much service having you fix my clunkers rather than buying new ones from you, but...
As I walked away, you said, 'The car should last perhaps another year. When you come to get a new one, I'll give you a deal.' You already have, my friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment