You’d think given the power mechanics wield over us and how important they are to our sense of well-being, that there’d be a more sophisticated way of finding a good one.The Globe and Mail
My brilliant mechanic made me promise not to reveal his name for this column. He isn’t looking for new customers. When he opened his own shop nine years ago he distributed flyers around the neighbourhood with come-hither lines like “We fix everything but broken hearts,” and posted ads on the bulletin board of a nearby church. Soon Charlie’s business snowballed alarmingly, to the point that he now jokes that he’s “too popular.”
He’s only ever been a two-man operation and wants to keep it that way. His assistant is the reliable silent type.
Some of my girlfriends go to brand dealerships, where they are on first name basis with the service manager/middleman(woman) but never lay eyes on the person who repairs their car. I prefer a local garage and someone who can look me in the eye and explain my car’s anatomy in plain language. Whether it’s brake parts or belts or bushings, my mechanic keeps a display of good-parts/ bad parts handy, a visual aid for challenged customers like me. It’s the reassurance I need before shelling out $$$ to maintain the vehicle I counted on not to let me down, and just has.
Charlie offers three repair choices: the “must do,” the “maybe think about,” and the “if money were no object.”
How do you find such a guy?
You’d think given the power mechanics wield over us and how important they are to our sense of well-being, that there’d be a more sophisticated way of finding a good one, other than old-fashioned word of mouth. We’re in the world of electric vehicles but in the dark ages when it comes to finding reliable service people.
We need mechanics (I know, I know, cars will self-fix any year now) but we also need them under stressful circumstances, when we’re most vulnerable. Blind faith is involved. I think dentists and teeth. Do I really need that root canal? What’s the guarantee I‘m not being ripped off?
Charlie's shop walls are cluttered with joke memorabilia customers bring back from travels, including a rich assortment of license plates.
I was lucky to find Charlie through the grapevine. No surprise he’d tinkered with engines as a hobby, first a 1974 Nova, then an Austin Marina, then a Duster. The best car he says he’s ever owned is a 2001 red convertible.
A Suzuki Vitara with only 100,000 km on the odometer is the car he drives today, not counting the 1923 Model T- Bucket he’s acquired for fun. He has excellent communication and diagnostic skills. His fingers are stained and greasy, indicative of the real deal. I’ve heard him on the phone and I’m convinced he’d shop around if there’s a cheaper used part to be had.
“Guys overcharge because they think they’re not going to see you again,” says Charlie, who’s let me in on some secrets. He knows there are bad apples who fleece customers. His goal is to see you again. His shop walls are cluttered with joke memorabilia customers bring back from travels, including a rich assortment of license plates. They’re a testament to his popularity. Guillermo del Toro could hang out here and feel at home.
I started out slow, just a spring tune-up and my checklist. Charlie offered a courtesy ride home in the rain, which was impressive. Check. Shortly thereafter, I had a scary thwumping noise in the engine which he resolved quickly and painlessly, meaning I didn’t have to remortgage the house. Check. That was seven years ago. I‘ve also discovered he volunteers for kids’ cancer. That may seem unrelated but, for me, points in the “fellow human” department.
When I dropped by his garage recently, the place was hopping. A walk-in wanted his tires changed. “Drop it off Monday,” said Charlie. A regular came by for a chat, bearing double doubles from Tim’s and doughnuts. A nattily dressed man came to retrieve his car and inquire about the state of his treads. “They’re good,” assured Charlie. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Whew. Thanks,” said the guy, grateful. I noticed the Order of Canada pin on his lapel and it seemed like he could part with extra dollars should the need arise. “I trust you, Charlie.”
My point, I thought.
I wish I could recommend my mechanic, he’s a great character, but a promise is a promise.
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