No Need To Repair This Relationship

This week we will all sit around tables laden with food and bow our head in thanks for the blessings that God has given us.  Among those blessings I include my family, my friends, my church, good health and my mechanic.

Wait…what?

You may laugh at the latter, and if you do then you are clearly not among the automotively challenged, like myself.  You are someone who knows the difference between a camshaft and a cylinder.  You change your own oil, rotate your own tires and change your own brake pads and spark plugs.  You do not tremble in fear each time the “check engine” light flickers on, and you are confident when you walk through the doors of AutoZone.

You are my polar opposite.

I purchased my first car in 1990 for $100 and I’ve been riding the repair rollercoaster ever since.  I’ve watched in horror as my dashboard lights slowly dimmed (alternator).  My ears prick up at the first sounds of high-pitched screeching (brakes, water pump, power steering).  I’ve driven like a bat out of hell to get to the dealership after being told, “Whatever you do, don’t turn your car off!” (head gasket). 

Over the years, I’ve taken my cars for repair at dealerships, private garages and franchise repair shops.  I quit going to the dealer because each time I brought my car in for service, I could swear the technician had little dollar signs where his pupils should have been.  The franchises were pleasant enough, but it always seemed like when I brought the car in for one repair, the technician would always find two more that were needed.

And then a few years ago, my friend Jessie referred me to Chuck Stymest at the Auto Hospital in Hanover. I took my car in for a few minor repairs and it was shortly after that I realized I had finally found that special someone every motorphobe dreams of: The Car Whisperer.

Again, with the laughing?  My husband and I don’t upgrade our car every few years.  Quite simply, we can’t afford to.  Instead, we drive our cars into the ground (and in my case, the curb).   Because of this, I’ve learned that an honest, trustworthy mechanic is just as important as a loyal babysitter, a knowledgeable physician and a savvy financial planner.  And sometimes, just as hard to find.

Our relationship began when I brought one of my cars to Chuck for a minor repair.  While I was there, I mentioned in passing that both the dealership and another car repair center told me that a major, expensive repair was coming up very soon.  Chuck responded by telling me that the repair wasn’t due for another 30,000 miles.  With that, Chuck became my new best friend.

There have been several instances over the years where I was positive that my car needed a pricey repair, only to be told by Chuck that the problem was a minor one:  I was pretty sure my car needed new brakes; it was a frozen pin.  My husband thought our van needed new shocks; there wasn’t enough air in the tires.  Granted, we’ve had our fair share of big-ticket repairs, as you’d expect with cars as old as ours.  I took my Saturn in for an oil change prior to a long car trip, only to discover that the car was unsafe to drive.  But because of the trust that’s been built, we know that when Chuck says, “This needs to be done,” it needs to be done.

I’m not the first to sing the praises of the folks at The Auto Hospital.  My predecessor, Cathy Harrington, wrote a column about them many years ago, which was how my friend Jessie heard about them, and then referred them to me.  When you find a good thing, you just want to pay it forward.

So I may be a complete ignoramus when it comes to cars, but that’s all right.  I’ve got Chuck in my corner.  And for that, I am truly thankful.