Ode to My Mechanic

Allow me to introduce you to Larry Hale.

Larry is my mechanic, hand-picked by my father before he passed away. When he became too ill to work on my mother's car, he said to her "If your car needs work, take it to Larry."

When I came out here from Nebraska, my mother recommended Larry to me. To date, he has never steered me wrong, nor has he left me completely broke after a repair job. Sure, he's an asshole (He'll tell you himself), but I cannot think of anyone more honest, more qualified, or more understanding than Larry. Except for tire work, I have not let another mechanic besides Larry or his assistant, Angelo, work on the cars I've owned since coming back to California. For the record, the cars were a 1992 Olds Cutlass Supreme and a 2000 Honda Civic.

Now, I've had my Honda since March, and I must say it's a workhorse. I have had absolutely no problems with it so far, just routine maintenance issues. But today, it nearly became a completely different story...

I went to Larry's to get my oil changed before work this morning (I deliver pizzas on the weekends, remember?). After about 15 minutes, I signed my credit card slip and went on my merry way.

About six minutes later, I had just got onto the freeway to get to work, when my cell rings; it was Larry. When I answered, this is what I heard:

"Pull your car over! Pull it over, right now!"

No "Hey, Rob, it's Larry," or anything like that. He literally ordered me to stop driving my car! After I pulled to the side of the road, he said that I was losing a lot of oil, and that he or Angelo would be out in a few minutes.

Angelo came out, jacked up my car, and discovered that the oil filter was defective: The rubber gasket had somehow become partially separated from the filter body. Well, he replaced the filter, and then added three (Count 'em, THREE) quarts of oil to my engine, right there on the side of the 57 Freeway. By the way, four-cylider engines hold four quarts! Even if you account for what was in the defective filter, I had lost over half of my oil in less than ten minutes!

Thanks to Larry's quick thinking, I avoided a major car problem (read: blown engine), and all it cost me was being about 15-20 minutes late to work. Hey, I'm moving next week; the last thing I needed was a hefty repair bill that would've sucked out all the money I've been saving for the move!

So, Larry, you cranky, ugly, dirty, rotten son-of-a-bitch (and I mean that affectionately), I raise my beer to you! Now, I know why you have customers who live in the Inland Empire. As of next weekend, I'll be living in Riverside, and I will still take my car to you! My mother has sung your praises for years; well, we're now officially a duet (Just make sure to cover your ears first!).