I was thinking about the first time I met my mechanic. I was driving in from my place there off of Edmunson Pike and the car was having major issues. Major, like, not sure if the car would keep going there on the interstate issues. I finally got it into town and rolled down West End, where we settled, like water reaching its level, in front of the BP. My mechanic found me crying in the parking lot, listened to my tale of woe, proclaimed it the alternator and fixed it for me.
I showed up there today, flouncing about in despair because of everything wrong with my car, and as I told him my list–the brake light comes on for no reason–he diagnosed the problem–probably a little low on brake fluid. I felt comforted. I apologized for cheating on him with the dealer. I checked out his heart surgery scar. And hugged him good-bye.
It is really good when you can find a good, honest mechanic that you can trust and stick with for years. Kinda like a good doctor.
My daddy was a mechanic, so I have a soft spot in my heart for most of them (who are honest).
My brother’s a mechanic, Ginger’s right…if you find a good, honest one…stick with him!
I grew up around 4 brothers who all worked on their cars all the time. My Mother helped my Dad rebuild an engine around 1962, kind of unusual at the time. There is nothing like a good mechanic.