Wow. It keeps happening. I drove by Pete's Automotive yesterday and it was empty. Pete finally closed his shop. Or worse—but I don't want to think about that. My family has been taking cars to him for repair for generations. My grandparents knew him and took their cars to him. My parents did the same. And my sister and I followed suit. I don't think any of us were convinced that he was the best mechanic in town, but he always seemed to have more work than he could handle, he was likable, on time, usually stayed within the estimate, and he was located in our neighborhood.
In fact, his entire shop had a neighborhood feel to it. It was an old-style gas station with two garage stalls and two gas pump islands that he stopped using many years ago. The pumps weren't even digital. They were the kind that had numbers that rolled—sort of like a slot machine. Once inside his extremely small customer service area, you were sure to see his basset hound lying in the corner. The dog was ancient even when I was a child, but somehow he continued to find life. And soon after spotting the dog, you'd see the old vending machine full of candy from who knows what decade. Yes, my sister and I ate it anyway. Pete's desk was always full of paperwork and somehow he always knew how to find what he was looking for. And he had two chairs for his customers to sit in—this was before the days when you waited while your car was fixed.
You could always count on Pete to liven things up a bit. He was a joke-telling chain-smoker with grease embedded so far down into his finger nails that no amount of cleaner could ever help and he always had a smile on his face. He even sympathized with his customers when he gave us the "bad news" by telling us that he knew how much of a bite it would take out of our wallet, but that the car was "ready to go" and we shouldn't have to worry about it for a while. And the thing that probably made him most likable was that he never forgot a face—and he rarely forgot a name.
My dad moved from the area in which we live many many years ago after he and my mother divorced. Dad moved back in 1997 and Pete was the person he turned to the first time he hard car problems. Pete remembered him. He asked about the family and they stood reminiscing for a while. That's the way Pete did business. He related with his customers. He cared about us. Now his shop is closed and it's one more reminder that we better fully enjoy the things we often take for granted, because tomorrow they might be gone.
