By Dale Moore |
By Dale Moore |
|
There is an old adage, “Never trust a skinny cook.” I feel the same about mechanics in service stations. I don’t mean I never trust a skinny mechanic! I mean…well let me give you an example. Last week my car was not sounding right and so I pulled into a service station. I thought the motor oil might be low, so I figured I would add a quart and see if that fixed the problem. I looked everywhere in this station for oil. Found flavored coffee! Flavored creamers! Shelves were neatly stocked with candy bars. Refrigerated cabinets held deli sandwiches, soft drinks, beer and bottled water. Actually, it appeared that I could have done most of my week’s grocery shopping in this station. I decided not to ask the guy behind the counter about the strange noise in my motor because I doubted grease had ever found its way under those manicured nails. I finally found two quarts of oil on a bottom shelf in the back corner of the station. I poured them into my engine, but to no avail. Returning home I took the car to my regular service station. The smell of grease, old rubber tires and fan belts permeates the place. The owner/mechanic, in his grease stained coveralls inspires confidence. Here, the coffee can sits next to the pot on the window ledge; beside it a box of candy bars that has evidently been there a while. No groceries! No bottled water! The floor is caked in grease that over the years has been tracked in from the bays just beyond the door. The old metal desk is littered with various orders, papers, keys and an adding machine. The walls are covered with ads about auto parts and local farm sales that are long past. A rack hanging next to the ads holds aspirin packets. Who knows when these walls were painted last? Who cares? I tell the mechanic my car doesn’t sound right. He walks out the door, past the block of a motor he is replacing, lifts the hood of my car and within fifteen seconds tells me the water pump is shot. And would you believe, he doesn’t charge me $75 for a diagnosis? I’m sure somewhere there are good cooks who are skinny and good service stations that are neat as a pin. But my common sense tells me there must be a reason behind the old adage. So, I will continue to trust the rotund chef in a dirty apron and the service station with a mechanic in grease stained coveralls. .
And that my two cents worth |
