I am sitting in a local Starbucks waiting for my car to get fixed. Surprise - I need new windshield wipers and the mechanism that supports them. Who would guess this would happen in Portland? The weather has been bizarre. Last week we had 7 days of gray, 3 of these with snow (short, didn't stick long, but it was there), and one afternoon so warm and sunny that Wesley and I played in the backyard without jackets. Today I am back to a heavy sweater watching the drizzle outside. All in one week. I guess I now understand what they mean about, "if you don't like the weather, wait a minute."
I am getting used to a new car shop. I loved Tom's Auto Shop in Monterey. When I first moved to Pacific Grove, I asked a new neighbor, Lowell, for a recommendation. He worked with me at Carmel High - the wood shop teacher - and I figured he would know where to go. He said, "If I can't fix it myself, I take it to Tom's." So off I went and was happy for the next 24 years.
The folks at Tom's knew my cars, told me what needed to be done, fixed them quickly, backed up their work, gently urged me when it was time to get replacements - and all this in a shop so clean you could literally eat off the floor. Our lives became entwined. They knew my cars and I knew his kids. I taught Tom's two sons at Carmel High and was delighted when I would see them at the shop in the intervening years.
One of my favorite memories involved Tom's shop, my car and my dog, Murphy. Any of you who knew Murphy are probably shaking your head right now as you recall Murphy the Wonder Dog - oh, that dog led me on a merry chase. She was the first dog of my life and I did NOT understand effective dog training. We coexisted. She occasionally did what I asked but only if it met her needs as well.
On this particular day I dropped my car off at Tom's on my way to Carmel High. When I came back to pick it up I was really surprised to find the work not finished - so unlike Tom's. One of his mechanics explained, "We didn't want to finish, given the costs, until we got permission but when we called Gary, he didn't answer." With that, I burst into tears. Other mechanics came running over. What had happened? What was wrong? What could they do? This was NOT my usual response to car maintenance issues.
I don't know about the rest of you but I have a really hard time talking while I cry. I gulped and sputtered and tried to get words out. "I guess you didn't know," (sob, hiccup, sniff) "that my husband died last month," (dawning horror on their faces as they understand why Gary didn't answer), "and I didn't think," (gurgle, hiccup) "to give you the Carmel High phone number." At this point I was sobbing and thoroughly embarrassed by my emotional outburst - it happened whenever I was blindsided by unexpected reminders of my husband's death. As I tried to contain myself, they scurried about fixing my car. I have never seen work done so quickly. While some worked on the engine, others gave me tissues to dry my face, pushed Tom's Automotive trinkets (a little calculator, notepads and a calendar as I recall) into my hands, and looked away while I desperately tried to gather my wits. I have never loved these men as much as I did that day.
As I got into my finished car, one of the mechanics came over to hand me my keys - and a box of See's candy. He said how sorry they were about Gary's death. I drove away, touched by their concern. About two miles into the drive I started to giggle, recalling the whole scene. It really was funny if one could unemotionally step away and watch it unfold. Not the sweet men but the situation. The tears, the scurrying, the handholding, the tissues, the gift-giving, the repair work and then the candy. If Gary had been alive this is a story I would have enjoyed telling and one he would have loved hearing. His world was so small - bed bound from his MS, unable to move, a bright mind trapped in a body - but thankfully his sense of humor remained undiminished. As I looked over at the box of See's sitting on the passenger seat I said aloud, "Well, Gary, I know you would have enjoyed all this, especially the candy, but unfortunately for you, I get it all myself."
I spoke too soon.
As I turned into the alley behind my house I saw a neighbor, Mike, standing by my garage. When he spotted me, he began to wave frantically. Well, he waved with one hand - the other was holding Murphy by the collar (yes, remember, Murphy is part of this story). I rolled down my window and got an earful. It seems that earlier that day Murph had worked her way under my back fence and escaped down the alley. Mike, good friend that he was, grabbed her and tossed her into his dog run along with his own sweet Labrador, Billy. Here is where the story got messy. Murphy, the master escape artist, quickly figured out how to outwit Mike's system. Not only this, she encouraged Billy to join in. Billy was a dog who had happily spent much of the previous 5 years in this dog run with never a thought of making a run for it - until he met Murphy. And now, Murphy had both a co-conspirator and an avid learner. The result was that my neighbor spent much of the afternoon trying to stay one step ahead of my dog. He would improvise a plan, Murphy would find a way around it, would leave with Billy in tow and Mike would have to go chase them. And it happened over and over. By the time I got home Mike was so mad I suspect he would have let my dog go except that I was a new widow. This is what saved Murphy. Mike was just too decent to let the miscreant run off.
This, however, did not prevent Mike from enumerating all of Murphy's failings of which there were many. I realized decisive action was needed. I grabbed the box of See's candy, waved it in front of him and said, "Oh, please, Mike, take this. I know it won't make up for your troubles but it might help." I was right. A chocoholic stood before me. His eyes lit up as he zoomed in on the easily identifiable white box with the gold stickers. He scooped that box away from me as fast as Murphy escaped from his dog run. As much as I regretted the loss of the candy, I knew not to press my luck. I whisked Murphy out of his sight, into my garage. Murphy, true to form, had no regret. She pranced ahead of me into the house. I shook my head as I followed Murphy in. Let's see, I got the dog, Mike got the See's, and Tom's Auto Shop ended up fixing far more than my car.
I wonder what my relationship with Barrett's Automotive here in Portland will be. They seem nice, have done previous work promptly, recognize that I am waiting for my car so move it up on the list of jobs to be done - no complaints. But do they have See's candy waiting if unexpected outbursts occur? This is the kind of thing not covered in online reviews. Only experience will tell. I am not counting on it - there are only so many Tom's in one's life.
I am getting used to a new car shop. I loved Tom's Auto Shop in Monterey. When I first moved to Pacific Grove, I asked a new neighbor, Lowell, for a recommendation. He worked with me at Carmel High - the wood shop teacher - and I figured he would know where to go. He said, "If I can't fix it myself, I take it to Tom's." So off I went and was happy for the next 24 years.
The folks at Tom's knew my cars, told me what needed to be done, fixed them quickly, backed up their work, gently urged me when it was time to get replacements - and all this in a shop so clean you could literally eat off the floor. Our lives became entwined. They knew my cars and I knew his kids. I taught Tom's two sons at Carmel High and was delighted when I would see them at the shop in the intervening years.
One of my favorite memories involved Tom's shop, my car and my dog, Murphy. Any of you who knew Murphy are probably shaking your head right now as you recall Murphy the Wonder Dog - oh, that dog led me on a merry chase. She was the first dog of my life and I did NOT understand effective dog training. We coexisted. She occasionally did what I asked but only if it met her needs as well.
Murphy disobeying tide pool rules at Asilomar
On this particular day I dropped my car off at Tom's on my way to Carmel High. When I came back to pick it up I was really surprised to find the work not finished - so unlike Tom's. One of his mechanics explained, "We didn't want to finish, given the costs, until we got permission but when we called Gary, he didn't answer." With that, I burst into tears. Other mechanics came running over. What had happened? What was wrong? What could they do? This was NOT my usual response to car maintenance issues.
I don't know about the rest of you but I have a really hard time talking while I cry. I gulped and sputtered and tried to get words out. "I guess you didn't know," (sob, hiccup, sniff) "that my husband died last month," (dawning horror on their faces as they understand why Gary didn't answer), "and I didn't think," (gurgle, hiccup) "to give you the Carmel High phone number." At this point I was sobbing and thoroughly embarrassed by my emotional outburst - it happened whenever I was blindsided by unexpected reminders of my husband's death. As I tried to contain myself, they scurried about fixing my car. I have never seen work done so quickly. While some worked on the engine, others gave me tissues to dry my face, pushed Tom's Automotive trinkets (a little calculator, notepads and a calendar as I recall) into my hands, and looked away while I desperately tried to gather my wits. I have never loved these men as much as I did that day.
As I got into my finished car, one of the mechanics came over to hand me my keys - and a box of See's candy. He said how sorry they were about Gary's death. I drove away, touched by their concern. About two miles into the drive I started to giggle, recalling the whole scene. It really was funny if one could unemotionally step away and watch it unfold. Not the sweet men but the situation. The tears, the scurrying, the handholding, the tissues, the gift-giving, the repair work and then the candy. If Gary had been alive this is a story I would have enjoyed telling and one he would have loved hearing. His world was so small - bed bound from his MS, unable to move, a bright mind trapped in a body - but thankfully his sense of humor remained undiminished. As I looked over at the box of See's sitting on the passenger seat I said aloud, "Well, Gary, I know you would have enjoyed all this, especially the candy, but unfortunately for you, I get it all myself."
I spoke too soon.
As I turned into the alley behind my house I saw a neighbor, Mike, standing by my garage. When he spotted me, he began to wave frantically. Well, he waved with one hand - the other was holding Murphy by the collar (yes, remember, Murphy is part of this story). I rolled down my window and got an earful. It seems that earlier that day Murph had worked her way under my back fence and escaped down the alley. Mike, good friend that he was, grabbed her and tossed her into his dog run along with his own sweet Labrador, Billy. Here is where the story got messy. Murphy, the master escape artist, quickly figured out how to outwit Mike's system. Not only this, she encouraged Billy to join in. Billy was a dog who had happily spent much of the previous 5 years in this dog run with never a thought of making a run for it - until he met Murphy. And now, Murphy had both a co-conspirator and an avid learner. The result was that my neighbor spent much of the afternoon trying to stay one step ahead of my dog. He would improvise a plan, Murphy would find a way around it, would leave with Billy in tow and Mike would have to go chase them. And it happened over and over. By the time I got home Mike was so mad I suspect he would have let my dog go except that I was a new widow. This is what saved Murphy. Mike was just too decent to let the miscreant run off.
This, however, did not prevent Mike from enumerating all of Murphy's failings of which there were many. I realized decisive action was needed. I grabbed the box of See's candy, waved it in front of him and said, "Oh, please, Mike, take this. I know it won't make up for your troubles but it might help." I was right. A chocoholic stood before me. His eyes lit up as he zoomed in on the easily identifiable white box with the gold stickers. He scooped that box away from me as fast as Murphy escaped from his dog run. As much as I regretted the loss of the candy, I knew not to press my luck. I whisked Murphy out of his sight, into my garage. Murphy, true to form, had no regret. She pranced ahead of me into the house. I shook my head as I followed Murphy in. Let's see, I got the dog, Mike got the See's, and Tom's Auto Shop ended up fixing far more than my car.
I wonder what my relationship with Barrett's Automotive here in Portland will be. They seem nice, have done previous work promptly, recognize that I am waiting for my car so move it up on the list of jobs to be done - no complaints. But do they have See's candy waiting if unexpected outbursts occur? This is the kind of thing not covered in online reviews. Only experience will tell. I am not counting on it - there are only so many Tom's in one's life.
Murphy teaching Stephanie the correct way to mouth a ball
(okay - to be fair to Stephanie - she had a clean ball in her mouth)
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